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THE    RIGHT    STUFF.     With    frontispiece.      izrno, 

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HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


A  MAN'S  MAN 


'O,   HUGHIE,   DID  YOU?"     (D376) 


A  MAN'S  MAN 

BY 

IAN  HAY,  p  ScvA 

AUTHOB  OF   "  THE  BIGHT  STUFF " 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY 
JAMES  MONTGOMERY  FLAGQ 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

prcsi*  CambdDgc 
1910 


COPYRIGHT,    1909,    BY  WILLIAM   BLACKWOOD  AND   SONS 
COPYRIGHT,    1910,    BY   HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN    COMPANY 


Published  September  IQIO 


TO 
T.  B. 


213SS19 


Partner  (after  several  collisions).  I  should  think  you  were  more 
at  home  in  a  boat  than  a  ballroom,  Mr.  Rudderford! 

Little  Bobbie  Rudderford  (the  famous  Oxbridge  coxswain) .  Yes ; 
and  by  Jove,  I  'd  sooner  steer  eight  men  than  one  woman,  any  day ! 
—  Punch. 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  ONE 

DEALS  WITH  A  STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

I.   NAVAL  MANCEUVBES 3 

II.  INTRODUCES  THE  HEROINE  OF  THIS  NARRATIVE    .  22 

III.  JIMMY  MARRABLE       28 

IV.  AN  UNDERSTUDY 49 

V.  THE  JOY  OF  BATTLE 61 

BOOK  TWO 

FORTITER  IN  RE 

VI.  KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA  MODE 81 

VII.  THE  ALTERNATIVE  ROUTE 112 

VIII.  A  BENEFIT  PERFORMANCE       130 

IX.  LITESA  SCSIPTA  MANET 146 

X.  THE  END  OF  AN  ODYSSEY 157 

BOOK  THREE 

SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

XL  SEALED  ORDERS 179 

XII.  A  CHANGE  OF  ATMOSPHERE 195 


x  CONTENTS 

XIII.  VARWM  ST  MUTABILB 223 

XIV.  BUSINESS  ONLY 247 

BOOK  FOUR 

THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

XV.  DEPUTATIONS  —  WITH  A  DIFFERENCE    ....  263 
XVI.   IN  WHICH  CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG,  AND  JOAN 

MISSES  HER  CUE 292 

XVII.  IN  WHICH  CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME,  AND  HUGHIE 

MISSES  HIS  TRAIN 320 

XVIII.   Ex  MACULA     . 339 

XIX.   IN  WHICH  LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW      .  354 
XX.  SINFUL  WASTE  OF  A  PENNY  STAMP    .  .  372 


BOOK  ONE 

DEALS  WITH  A  STUFF  THAT  WILL 
NOT  ENDURE 


A  MAN'S  MAN 

CHAPTER  I 

NAVAL  MAN02UVRES 

A  UNIVERSITY  college  varies  its  facial  expres- 
sion about  as  frequently  as  The  Sphinx  and  about 
as  violently  as  a  treacle- well. 

This  remark  specially  applies  between  the 
hours  of  breakfast  and  luncheon.  The  courts, 
with  their  monastic  cloisters  and  inviolable  grass- 
plots,  lie  basking  in  a  sunny  obliviousness  to  the 
world  outside.  Their  stately  exclusiveness  is  ac- 
centuated rather  than  diminished  by  the  glimpse 
of  an  occasional  flying  figure  in  a  cap  and  gown, 
or  the  spectacle  of  a  middle-aged  female  of  a 
discreet  and  chastened  appearance,  who  glides 
respectfully  from  one  archway  to  another,  carry- 
ing a  broom  and  a  tin  pail,  or  —  alas  for  the 
goings-on  that  a  cloistered  cell  may  conceal  be- 
hind its  art-muslin  curtains !  —  a  tankard  con- 
taining some  gentleman's  morning  ale. 

In  one  corner,  close  to  the  Buttery  door,  you 
may  behold  one  of  the  college  cats,  which  appears 
to  be  combining  a  searching  morning  toilet  with 


4    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

a  course  of  practical  calisthenics;  and  inside  the 
massive  arch  of  the  gateway  stands  a  majestic 
figure  in  a  tall  hat,  whom  appreciative  Americans 
usually  mistake  for  the  Master,  but  who  in  reality 
occupies  the  far  more  onerous  and  responsible 
post  of  Head  Porter. 

Perhaps  the  greatest  variation  from  the  normal 
is  to  be  observed  on  a  Saturday  morning.  Then 
the  scene  is  brightened  by  the  vision  of  an  occa- 
sional washerwoman,  who  totters  bravely  at  one 
end  of  a  heavy  basket,  what  time  her  lord  and 
master  (who  has  temporarily  abandoned  his  fa- 
vourite street-corner  and  donned  Sabbath  attire 
for  this,  his  weekly  contribution  to  the  work  of 
the  world)  sulkily  supports  the  other. 

Undergraduates,  too,  are  more  in  evidence  than 
on  other  days.  On  most  mornings  they  either 
stay  indoors,  to  work  or  sleep,  or  else  go  outside 
the  college  altogether.  "Loitering"  in  the  courts 
is  not  encouraged  by  the  authorities.  Not  that 
the  undergraduate  minds  that;  but  it  will  prob- 
ably cost  him  half-a-crown  every  time  he  does  so, 
not  because  he  loiters  but  because  he  smokes. 

The  Old  Court  of  St.  Benedict's  College  —  it  is 
hardly  necessary  to  say  that  we  are  in  Cambridge 
and  not  in  Oxford:  otherwise  we  should  have 
said  "Quad" — presents  to  us  on  the  present 
occasion  a  very  fair  sample  of  a  Saturday  morn- 
ing crowd.  The  observant  eye  of  the  Dean,  look- 


NAVAL  MANCEUVRES  5 

ing  down  (like  Jezebel)  from  an  upper  chamber, 
can  discern  — 

1.  Three   washerwomen,    with    the   appurte- 
nances thereof. 

2.  One  small  boy  delivering  The  Granta. 

3.  A  solitary  spectacled  gentleman,  of  the  type 
described  by  the  University  Calendar  in  stately 
periphrasis  as  "  A  Native  of  Asia,  not  of  European 
Parentage"  (but  more  tersely  classified  by  the  rest 
of  the  community  as  "a  nigger"),  hurrying  in  cap 
and  gown  to  secure  a  good  place  at  the  feet  of 
some  out-of-college  Gamaliel. 

4.  A  kitchen-man  in  white  jacket  and  apron, 
bearing  upon  his  head  a  tray  containing  a  salmon 
mayonnaise,  cutlets  in  aspic,  and  a  special  Cam- 
bridge dainty  known  as  "Grassy  Corner  Pud- 
ding" —  a  fearsome  compound  of  whipped  cream 
and  pistachio  nuts. 

5.  A  Buttery  boy,  walking  close  behind,  with  a 
basket  containing  bottles.  Evidently  some  young 
gentleman   is  about  to  entertain   angels  —  un- 
awares so  far  as  his  bill-paying  papa  is  concerned. 

6.  Four  young  men  converging  to  a  group  in 
the  centre  of  the  court.   Of  these,  two  are  attired 
in  the  undergraduate  mode  of  the  moment  — 
tweed  jackets  with  leather  buttons,  waistcoats  of 
the  Urim  and  Thummim  variety,  grey  flannel 
trousers  well  turned  up,  clamorous  silk  socks,  and 
heavy   Highland  shooting  brogues.    The   third 


6      STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

wears  what  the  College  Regulations  describe 
rather  ingenuously  as  "Athletic  Dress."  Pheidip- 
pides  himself  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  per- 
form feats  of  prowess  in  a  costume  composed  of 
split  pumps,  white  duck  trousers,  and  a  blazer 
admirably  qualified  to  serve  as  a  model  of  the 
Solar  Spectrum. 

It  may  be  mentioned  in  passing  that,  to  the 
College  Regulations,  "Athletic  Dress"  is  not  in 
itself  a  costume  in  which  it  is  possible  to  perform 
athletic  feats,  but  one  whose  colour-scheme  clashes 
with  the  sub-fuse  standard  which  obtains  in  all 
college  courts  until  one  P.M.  ;  such,  in  fact,  as 
would  tend  to  distract  the  eye  and  sap  the  dili- 
gence of  those  who  traverse  the  courts  on  their 
way  to  lectures.  In  consequence,  he  who  would 
be  matutinally  athletic  must  either  keep  his  war- 
paint somewhere  out  of  college,  or  drape  himself 
like  a  stage  conspirator  as  he  flits  from  his  rooms 
to  the  river  or  Fenner's. 

The  fourth  gentleman  of  the  party  was  dressed, 
if  not  gorgeously,  sufficiently  respectably  to  war- 
rant the  assumption  that  he  was  not  a  member 
of  the  University. 

All  four  were  smoking. 

The  Dean,  glancing  in  the  direction  of  the  gate- 
way, and  observing  with  sardonic  satisfaction  that 
the  watchful  Cerberus  there  was  taking  a  note  of 
the  delinquency,  returned  to  his  work.  Regard- 


NAVAL  MANOEUVRES  7 

less  of  the  prospective  loss  of  half-a-crown  apiece, 
the  undergraduates  exchanged  cheerful  greetings. 

"Hallo,  Dishy- Washy!" 

"Hallo,  Gussie!" 

"Hallo,  Towzer!" 

There  ensued  an  awkward  pause,  while  Messrs. 
Gussie  and  Towzer,  nervously  conscious  of  the 
presence  of  a  stranger  to  whom  they  were  about 
to  be  presented,  looked  intently  at  their  boots 
and  waited  for  the  introduction  to  take  place. 

The  gentleman  previously  addressed  as  Dishy- 
Washy,  a  diminutive  youth  with  wizened  features, 
—  his  name  was  Dishart- Watson,  —  cleared  his 
throat. 

"  Introduce  my  brother,"  he  said  huskily.  "  Mr. 
Poltimore  —  Mr.  Angus !" 

The  gentlemen  indicated  shook  hands  with  the 
visitor,  and  Mr.  Angus,  after  a  mental  effort, 
inquired :  — 

"  Come  to  see  us  go  Head  ?" 

He  giggled  deprecatingly,  to  show  that  he  did 
not  really  mean  this. 

"Hope  so,"  said  Dishy- Washy's  brother  po- 
litely. "I  hear  you've  got  a  pretty  hot  crew,"  he 
added. 

"First  chop,"  said  Mr.  Poltimore.  "You  just 
arrived?" 

"Yes;  down  from  town  this  morning." 

"Oh!  live  there?" 


8      STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"Er  —  yes." 

"Oxford  man,"  interpolated  Dishy- Washy 
swiftly.  "Sent  down,"  he  added  in  extenuation. 

The  other  two  nodded  sympathetically,  and  the 
conversation  proceeded  more  briskly. 

"Are  you  going  to  catch  those  chaps  to-night, 
Dishy?"  inquired  Mr.  Angus  earnestly. 

"Don't  know,"  replied  Dishy- Washy,  who  as 
coxswain  of  the  St.  Benedict's  boat  enjoyed  a 
position  of  authority  and  esteem  in  inverse  ratio 
to  his  inches.  "  Duncombe  's  a  good  enough  little 
oar,  but  you  can't  expect  a  man  who  weighs  nine 
stone  ten  to  stroke  the  boat  and  pull  it  along 
too.  Of  course,  if  we  had  anything  we  could  call 
a  Six!  As  for  old  Puffin—" 

"Fourteen  stone  of  tripe!"  interpolated  Mr. 
Angus,  the  gentleman  in  Athletic  Dress.  "Lord 
help  the  boat!"  he  added  bitterly. 

It  may  be  mentioned  in  passing  that  Mr.  An- 
gus's  athletic  achievements  were  rather  over- 
stated by  his  costume.  His  blazer  was  that  of  a 
college  club  of  twelve  members,  admission  to 
which  was  strictly  limited  to  gentlemen  who  could 
absorb  a  gallon  of  beer  at  a  draught,  and  whose 
first  rule  stated  that  any  member  who  committed 
the  betise  of  taking  a  degree,  however  humble, 
should  pay  to  the  club  a  fine  of  five  pounds. 

"  Still,"  said  Towzer  hopefully,  "  there  's  always 
Marrable." 


NAVAL  MANOEUVRES  9 

Everybody  —  even  the  gentleman  who  had 
been  sent  down  from  Oxford  —  cheered  up  at 
this  reflection. 

"By  gum!"  said  the  coxswain  with  sudden  en- 
thusiasm, " he's  a  wonder !  You  should  have  seen 
him  in  the  boat  yesterday.  He  was  rowing  a 
blade  that  simply  lifted  the  whole  of  bow  side 
along  by  itself ;  and  besides  that  he  was  coaching 
Stroke  all  the  time  —  telling  him  when  to  swing 
out  and  when  to  quicken,  and  bucking  him  up 
generally;  and  on  the  top  of  all  that  he  found 
time  every  now  and  then  to  turn  round  and  curse 
old  Six.  I  tell  you,  he's  a  wonder.  Did  you  hear 
about  him  last  night?" 

"I  did  hear  some  yarn,"  said  Angus.  "Went 
and  smashed  up  The  Owls,  did  n't  he  ?" 

"Smashed  up?"  Dishy's  saturnine  features 
expanded  into  a  smile  that  was  almost  benevolent. 
"  My  lad,  have  you  seen  Muggeridge's  alabaster 
brow  this  morning?" 

Mr.  Muggeridge  was  the  president  of  "The 
Owls"  Wine  Club. 

"No." 

"  Well,  last  night  I  was  going  round  about  half- 
past  ten  to  see  that  all  the  crew  were  in  their 
beds.  When  I  came  to  H,  New  Court,  I  found 
a  devil  of  a  row  going  on  in  Muggeridge's  rooms 
—  directly  under  Buncombe's,  you  know." 

"Yes.    Go  on,"  said  all,  much  interested. 


10    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"There  was  a  meeting  of  The  Owls  on,"  con- 
tinued Dishy,  "  and  they  'd  had  the  nerve  to  hold 
it  on  a  staircase  where  there  were  actually  two 
men  of  the  crew  —  Duncombe  and  Eversley  — 
trying  to  get  to  sleep." 

"What  did  you  do?"  inquired  Poltimore. 

"  Went  in  and  reminded  them.  I  thought  they 
might  have  forgotten." 

"What  did  they  say?" 

"They  told  me  to  go  to  — " 

"Good  Lord!"  said  the  audience,  genuinely 
horrified  at  the  employment  of  such  language  by 
a  non-athletic  to  an  athletic  man. 

The  Owls  were  a  collection  of  rather  dissipated 
young  nobodies,  while  Dishy  wore  a  Leander  tie, 
which  in  a  rowing  college  entitles  a  man  to  some- 
thing like  reverence. 

"I  soon  found  it  was  a  put-up  job,"  continued 
the  coxswain.  "They  had  some  grudge  against 
Duncombe,  and  wanted  to  score  him  off.  I  could 
hear  him  hammering  on  his  bedroom  floor  above 
to  make  them  dry  up." 

"What  did  you  do  then?" 

"  I  explained  to  them  exactly  what  I  thought  of 
them,"  replied  the  coxswain  simply. 

"What  did  you  say,  exactly?" 

Dishy  told  them.  They  smacked  their  lips  ap- 
preciatively, and  the  next  question  followed  pat. 

"And  what  did  they  do?" 


NAVAL  MANOEUVRES  11 

"Well,  they  were  a  bit  far  gone  — ' 

"Drunken  sweeps!"  remarked  the  virtuous 
Gussie,  who  belonged  to  a  rival  institution. 

"  Yes.  They  were  a  bit  far  gone,"  repeated  the 
coxswain,  with  the  air  of  one  endeavouring  to 
explain  an  otherwise  unaccountable  circumstance, 
"and  they  —  well,  tihey  hove  me  out,  in  fact. 
There  were  nine  of  them,"  he  added,  in  the  man- 
ner of  one  who  is  not  quite  sure  if  his  excuse  will 
be  accepted. 

"And  then?" 

"Then  I  went  straight  off  to  old  Hughie's 
rooms"  —  there  was  a  respectful  intaking  of 
breath  by  the  company :  most  of  the  College  were 
wont  to  refer  to  the  gentleman  in  question  as 
Marrable  —  "and  knocked  him  up.  He  had  just 
gone  to  bed." 

"  What  did  he  do  ?"  came  the  question,  in  lively 
anticipation  of  the  recital  to  come. 

"Put  on  a  few  things  over  his  pyjamas,  and 
came  along  with  me." 

The  audience  sighed  ecstatically. 

"What  happened?"  said  Poltimore. 

"Well,  things  were  getting  a  bit  lively  by  the 
time  we  arrived.  Just  as  we  got  to  the  foot  of  the 
stair  we  were  greeted  by  Muggeridge's  oak,  which 
some  playful  fellow  had  taken  off  its  hinges  and 
thrown  over  the  banisters.  However,  we  dodged 
that  and  raced  up  to  the  first  floor. 


12    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"You  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop  when  we 
walked  into  the  room.  One  or  two  of  them  looked 
a  bit  green,  though,  when  they  saw  what  a  tower- 
ing passion  Hughie  was  in.  Still,  Muggeridge  was 
sober  enough,  and  tried  to  talk  it  off.  He  stood 
up,  and  said, '  Hallo,  Marrable !  This  is  splendid ! 
You  are  just  in  time  to  drink  to  the  success  of  the 
crew  to-morrow.  We 're  all  sportsmen  here.  Come 
on,  you  chaps  —  no  heeltaps!' 

"  He  stood  waving  his  glass,  but  anybody  could 
see  that  he  was  in  a  putrid  funk. 

"  Hughie  shut  the  door  behind  him  and  leaned 
against  it,  and  said :  — 

"'Muggeridge,  I  don't  know  you  very  inti- 
mately, but  I  know  this,  that  you  always  were  a 
worm  and  a  bounder.  You  can't  altogether  help 
that,  and  personally  I  don't  particularly  mind, 
although  you  give  the  College  away  a  bit.  Still,  I 
think  the  College  can  bear  that.  You  are  quite  at 
liberty  to  get  full  and  amuse  yourself  in  any  way 
you  please,  so  long  as  you  and  your  pals  don't  in- 
terfere with  other  people.  But  when  it  comes  to 
disturbing  my  crew,  who  have  to  fight  the  battles 
of  the  College  on  behalf  of  warriors  like  you  and 
these  gentlemen  here,  whose  favourite  field-sport 
is  probably  billiards  —  well,  that 's  just  what  I 
call  a  bit  too  thick!' 

"All  this  time  Muggeridge  was  looking  pretty 
averagely  uncomfortable.  The  other  chaps  were 


NAVAL  MANCEUVRES  13 

gazing  at  him,  evidently  waiting  for  a  lead.  But 
you  could  see  he  was  pretty  well  up  a  stump  as  to 
what  to  do  next.  However,  next  time  old  Hughie 
paused  for  breath,  he  said :  — 

"'Oh,  get  out!' 

"It  was  a  rotten  thing  to  say.  Hughie  smiled 
at  him. 

" '  All  right,'  he  said, '  but  I  must  put  you  to  bed 
before  I  go.' 

"Before  anybody  could  do  anything  he  was 
across  the  room  and  had  a  grip  of  Muggeridge  by 
the  back  of  the  neck  and  one  wrist,  which  he 
twisted  round  behind  somehow.  Then  he  turned 
him  round,  and  kicked  him  all  the  way  across  the 
room  into  his  bedroom.  He  used  Muggeridge' s 
head  as  a  sort  of  battering-ram  to  open  the  door 
with.  Oh,  it  was  the  most  gorgeous  spectacle !" 

There  was  a  little  sigh  of  rapture  all  round  the 
group. 

Muggeridge  was  a  prominent  member  of  that 
class  of  society  which  undergraduates  and  other 
healthy  and  outspoken  Philistines  designate 
simply  and  comprehensively  as  "Tishbites"  or 
"Tishes." 

"He  shut  him  in  and  locked  the  door,"  con- 
tinued the  coxswain,  "  and  then  he  turned  on  the 
other  eight.  They  were  a  pretty  average  lot  of 
worms  —  you  know  them  ?" 

There  was  a  murmur  of  assent,  and  Mr.  Polti- 


14    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

more,  with  rather  belated  presence  of  mind,  hur- 
riedly explained  to  the  Oxford  gentleman  that  the 
band  of  heroes  under  discussion  were  not  in  any 
sense  representative  of  the  rank  and  file  of  the 
College. 

—  And  they  just  sat  round  the  table  looking 
perfectly  paralytic.  (As  a  matter  of  fact  most  of 
them  were.)  Hughie  laid  hold  of  the  biggest  of 
them  —  Skeffington  —  and  said :  — 

"This  meeting  is  adjourned,  gentlemen.  Just 
to  show  you  that  I'm  speaking  the  truth,  I'll 
heave  the  senior  member  present  downstairs ! '" 

"Did  he?"  asked  everybody. 

"No.  He'd  have  killed  him  if  he  had.  He 
picked  Skeff  up  by  the  collar  and  the  seat  of  his 
bags  and  said  to  me,  *  Watch  'em,  Dishy !'  Then 
he  carried  Skeff  downstairs,  and  slugged  him  into 
the  middle  of  the  grass  plot  outside." 

"Good  egg!"  murmured  Mr.  Angus. 
'    "Didn't  the  others  try  to  bolt?"   inquired 
Towzer. 

"  The  idea  was  mooted,"  replied  the  coxswain 
loftily,  "but  I  told  them  to  sit  still  or  they'd  get 
their  silly  heads  knocked  together." 

"Did  he  cart  them  all  downstairs?" 

"No;  it  would  have  been  too  tame  a  job  with 
such  a  set  of  mangy  squirts.  He  simply  came 
back  and  said :  — 

"  *  Now,  you  miserable  little  snipes,  I  give  you 


NAVAL  MANOEUVRES  15 

fifteen  seconds  to  quit  these  premises.  The  last 
man  out  will  be  personally  assisted  downstairs  by 
me.  I'm  sorry  I've  only  got  slippers  on.'  Still, 
he  landed  the  Honourable  Hopton-Hattersley  a 
very  healthy  root  for  all  that,"  concluded  Dishy, 
with  a  seraphic  smile.  "After  that  the  porter 
arrived  with  the  Dean's  compliments,  and  it  was 
past  the  hour  for  music,  gentlemen ;  but  Hughie 
slapped  him  on  the  back  and  told  him  that  he 
had  arrived  too  late  for  the  fair.  Then  he  went 
home  to  bed  as  cool  as  a  cucumber.  Oh,  he's  — 
Hallo,  there  he  is!  I  must  catch  him.  So  long, 
you  men!  See  you  at  lunch,  Reggie." 

And  Mr.  Dishart- Watson,  swelling  with  im- 
portance, hurried  off  to  overtake  a  figure  which 
had  swung  out  of  a  distant  staircase  in  the  south- 
west corner  of  the  court  and  was  striding  towards 
the  gateway. 

There  was  no  undergraduate  slouchiness  dis- 
cernible either  in  the  dress  or  in  the  appearance  of 
the  Captain  of  the  St.  Benedict's  boat.  He  was  a 
strong-limbed,  clean-run  young  man  of  about 
twenty-one;  perhaps  a  trifle  too  muscular  to  be 
a  quick  mover,  but,  with  his  broad  back  and 
sinewy  loins,  an  ideally  built  rowing-man.  He 
was  a  youth  of  rather  grave  countenance,  with 
shrewd  blue  eyes  which  had  a  habit  of  disap- 
pearing into  his  head  when  he  laughed,  and  a 
mouth  in  which,  during  these  same  periods  of 


16    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

exhilaration,  his  friends  confidently  asserted  that 
you  could  post  a  letter.  He  was  a  born  leader 
of  men,  and,  as  the  discerning  reader  will  have 
gathered  from  Mr.  Dishart- Watson's  narrative, 
was  still  strongly  imbued  with  what  may  be 
called  public-school  principles  of  justice.  He  en- 
tirely refused  to  suffer  fools  gladly  or  even  re- 
signedly, but  had  a  kindly  nod  for  timorous 
freshmen,  a  friendly  salute  for  those  Dons  who 
regarded  undergraduates  as  an  integral  part  of 
the  scheme  of  college  life  and  not  merely  as  a 
necessary  evil,  and  a  courtly  good-day  for  flut- 
tered and  appreciative  bedmakers.  He  never  for- 
got the  faces  or  names  of  any  of  those  over  him  or 
under  him  —  Dons  and  college  servants,  that  is ; 
and  further,  in  his  own  walk  of  life  (a  society  in 
which  you  may  recognise  the  existence  of  no  man, 
even  though  he  daily  passes  you  the  salt  or 
gathers  you  under  his  arm  in  the  familiarity  of  a 
Rugby  scrummage,  until  you  have  been  formally 
introduced  to  him),  he  never  pretended  to  do  so. 

While  Mr.  Dishy- Washy's  short  legs  are  en- 
deavouring to  bring  him  alongside  the  striding 
Olympian  in  front,  it  will  perhaps  be  well  to  ex- 
plain why  it  was  so  absolutely  essential  to  the 
welfare  of  St.  Benedict's  College  that  eight  young 
men  should  enjoy  a  night's  rest  untrammelled 
by  revels  on  the  floors  below. 

For  the  benefit  of  those  who  have  never  made 


NAVAL  MANCEUVRES  17 

a  study  of  that  refinement  of  torture  known  as 
a  "bumping"  race,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  at 
Oxford  and  Cambridge  the  various  College  crews, 
owing  to  the  narrowness  of  their  rivers,  race  not 
abreast  but  in  a  long  string,  each  boat  being 
separated  from  its  pursuer  and  pursued  by  an 
equal  space.  Every  crew  which  succeeds  in  row- 
ing over  the  course  without  being  caught  (or 
"bumped")  by  the  boat  behind  it  is  said  to  have 
"kept  its  place,"  and  starts  in  the  same  position 
for  the  next  day's  racing.  But  if  it  contrives  to 
touch  the  boat  in  front,  it  is  said  to  have  made 
a  "bump,"  and  both  bumper  and  bumped  get 
under  the  bank  with  all  speed  and  allow  the  rest 
of  the  procession  to  race  past.  Next  day  bumper 
and  bumped  change  places,  and  the  victors  of  the 
day  before  endeavour  to  repeat  their  performance 
at  the  expense  of  the  next  boat  in  front  of  them. 
The  crew  at  "the  head  of  the  river"  have,  of 
course,  nothing  to  catch,  and  can  accordingly 
devote  their  attention  to  keeping  away  from 
Number  Two,  which  is  usually  in  close  attendance 
owing  to  the  pressing  attention  of  Number  Three. 
And  so  on. 

The  racing  takes  place  during  four  successive 
evenings  in  the  May  Week,  so  called  for  the 
somewhat  inadequate  reason  that  it  occurs  in 
June.  It  was  now  Saturday,  the  last  day  of  the 
races,  and  the  men  of  St.  Benedict's  knew  that 


18    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

an  enormous  effort  must  be  made  that  evening. 
So  far  they  had  made  two  bumps,  comparatively 
easily.  Starting  from  fourth  place  they  were  now 
second  on  the  river,  and  only  the  All  Saints  boat 
stood  between  them  and  the  haven  where  they 
would  be.  They  had  tried  last  night  to  bring  their 
foe  down,  but  had  failed ;  they  were  going  to  try 
again  to-night,  but  All  Saints  were  a  terribly  strong 
crew.  They  had  been  Head  for  five  years,  and 
there  were  four  Blues  in  the  boat.  Public  opinion 
admitted  that  St.  Benedict's  were  about  the  fast- 
est crew  on  the  river  that  year,  but  considered 
that  a  seasoned  lot  like  All  Saints  could  keep 
on  spurting  away  long  enough  to  last  out  the 
course. 

"Unless,  of  course,"  people  said,  "unless 
Marrable  does  something  extra  special." 

It  was  wonderful  what  a  lot  the  world  in  gen- 
eral seemed  to  expect  of  Marrable.  Character 
counts  for  something  even  among  the  very  young ; 
and  there  is  no  more  youthful  member  of  society 
than  the  undergraduate.  The  sixth-form  boy  is  a 
Nestor  compared  with  him. 

Meanwhile  our  diminutive  friend  Dishy,  the 
coxswain,  had  succeeded  in  overtaking  his  cap- 
tain, just  as  that  great  man  stepped  into  a  han- 
som in  Trinity  Street. 

"Where  are  you  off  to,  Hughie?"  he  panted. 

"Station." 


NAVAL  MANOEUVRES  19 

"People?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I'm  coming  with  you.  I'll  cut  away 
before  you  meet  her." 

Dishy  was  one  of  the  few  who  dared  to  address 
Marrable  in  this  strain. 

The  two  installed  themselves  in  the  hansom, 
and  while  the  experienced  animal  between  the 
shafts  proceeded  down  Trinity  Street,  butting 
its  way  through  sauntering  pedestrians,  pushing 
past  country-parsonical  governess  carts,  taking 
dogs  in  its  stride,  and  shrinking  apprehensively 
from  motor-bicycles  ridden  by  hatless  youths  in 
bedroom  slippers,  they  discussed  affairs  of  state. 

"There's  only  one  way  to  do  it,  Dishy,"  said 
Marrable.  "I'm  going  stroke." 

Dishy  nodded  approvingly. 

"It's  the  only  thing  to  do,"  he  said.  "But  who 
is  going  to  row  seven  —  Stroke  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Bow-side  will  go  to  pieces,"  said  Dishy  with 
conviction. 

"Perhaps.  But  as  things  are  at  present  stroke 
side  will." 

"That's  true,"  admitted  the  coxswain.  "Let's 
see  now :  there'll  be  you  stroke,  Duncombe  seven, 
Puffin  six  —  it's  worth  trying  anyhow.  We're 
bound  to  keep  away  from  the  James'  people,  so 
we  might  as  well  have  a  shot." 


20    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"Clear  out  now,"  said  Marrable,  "and  go 
round  and  tell  the  men  to  be  at  the  boathouse  by 
four,  and  we'll  have  a  ten  minutes'  outing  in  the 
new  order.  Then,  when  you've  done  that,  cut 
down  to  the  boathouse  and  tell  Jerry  to  alter  my 
stretcher  and  Duncombe's." 

These  commands  involved  a  full  hour's  exces- 
sive activity  in  a  hot  sun  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Dish- 
art-Watson;  but  Marrable  was  not  the  man  to 
spare  himself  or  his  subordinates  when  occasion 
demanded. 

The  coxswain  descended  to  the  step  of  the 
hansom  and  clung  to  the  splash-board  as  he  re- 
ceived his  last  instructions. 

"And  tell  Jerry,"  added  Marrable,  "to  get 
down  a  new  stroke-side  oar,  with  a  good  six-inch 
blade.  Duncombe's  has  been  shaved  down  to  a 
tooth-pick." 

Dishy  nodded  cheerfully  and  dropped  off  into 
the  traffic. 

"The  old  man  means  business.  We  shall  go 
Head  now,"  he  murmured  to  himself  with  simple 
confidence.  "All  right,  sir,  my  fault  entirely. 
Don't  apologise!" 

And  leaving  an  inverted  motor-cyclist,  who  had 
run  into  him  from  behind,  to  congest  the  traffic 
and  endure  laceration  from  his  own  still  faith- 
fully revolving  pedals,  the  coxswain  of  the  St. 
Benedict's  boat  proceeded  at  a  brisk  pace  back 


NAVAL  MANCEUVRES  21 

to  his  College,  there  to  inform  a  sorely  tried  troupe 
of  seven  that,  owing  to  an  eleventh-hour  change 
in  the  cast,  a  full-dress  rehearsal  of  their  evening's 
performance  had  been  called  for  four  o'clock 
sharp. 


CHAPTER  II 

INTRODUCES  THE  HEROINE  OF  THIS  NARRATIVE 

IT  has  been  said  by  those  who  ought  to  know 
that,  if  the  most  painful  quarter  of  an  hour  in  a 
man's  life  comes  when  he  is  screwing  himself  up 
to  proposing-point,  the  corresponding  period  in 
a  woman's  is  that  immediately  preceding  her 
first  dinner-party  in  her  own  house. 

Granting  the  unpleasantness  of  both  these 
chastening  but  necessary  experiences,  a  mere 
male  may  be  excused  for  inquiring  why  the  second 
should  be  ear-marked  as  the  exclusive  preroga- 
tive of  the  opposite  sex.  There  is  no  more  mor- 
bidly apprehensive  creature  under  the  sun  than 
the  undergraduate  about  to  give  a  state  luncheon- 
party  which  is  to  be  graced  by  the  presence  of  his 
beloved. 

Hughie  Marrable  sat  back  in  his  hansom  with 
knitted  brow,  and  checked  some  hieroglyphics 
on  the  back  of  an  envelope. 

"  Let's  see,"  he  murmured  to  himself,  "Dressed 
crab.  Can't  go  wrong  there.  Told  the  cook  to 
be  sure  to  send  it  up  in  the  silver  scallops  with 
the  College  crest  on.  After  all,  it's  the  trim- 
mings that  really  appeal  to  a  woman.  Not  the 


INTRODUCES  THE   HEROINE      23 

food,  but  the  way  you  serve  it  up.  Rum  crea- 
tures!" he  added  parenthetically.  "Prawns  in 
aspic.  That  always  looks  nice,  anyway,  though 
not  very  filling  at  the  price.  I  remember  last 
year  Kitty  Devenish  said  it  looked  simply — " 

Hughie  checked  his  soliloquy  rather  suddenly, 
and,  if  any  one  else  had  been  present  in  the  han- 
som, would  probably  have  blushed  a  little.  Miss 
Kitty  Devenish  was  what  cycle-dealers  term  "a 
last  year's  model,"  and  at  the  present  moment 
Hughie  was  driving  to  meet  some  one  else.  He 
continued :  — 

"  Cutlets  a  la  reform.  Quite  the  best  thing  the 
kitchens  turn  out,  but  not  so  showy  as  they 
might  be.  Still,  with  old  Huish's  Crown  Derby 
plates  —  it  was  decent  of  the  old  man  to  lend 
them;  I  hope  to  goodness  Mrs.  Gunn  won't  do 
anything  rash  with  them  —  they  ought  to  do. 
Grassy  corner  pudding.  That  always  creates  ex- 
citement, though  it  tastes  rotten.  Fruit  salad; 
creme  brule.  That's  safe  enough.  Macaroni  au 
gratin.  She  won't  touch  it,  but  it'll  please  Uncle 
Jimmy  and  Jack  Ames.  Wish  I  could  have  some 
myself !  Never  mind ;  only  about  six  hours  more ! " 

Hughie  smacked  his  lips.  It  is  hard  to  sit 
among  the  flesh-pots  and  not  partake  thereof. 
His  fare  at  this  feast  would  be  cold  beef  and  dry 
toast. 

He  turned  over  the  envelope. 


24    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

" H'm  —  drink.  Don't  suppose  she'll  have  any- 
thing, but  I  can't  take  that  for  granted.  There's 
a  bottle  of  Berncastler  Doctor  and  some  Beaune. 
I  wonder  if  it  would  be  best  to  have  them  open 
before  I  ask  her  what  she'll  drink,  or  ask  her 
what  she'll  drink  before  I  open  them.  I'll  have 
'em  open,  I  think.  She  might  refuse  if  she  saw 
the  corks  were  n't  drawn.  Anyhow  Mrs.  Ames 
will  probably  take  some.  But,  great  Scott!  I 
must  ask  Mrs.  Ames  first,  mustn't  I?  That's 
settled  anyway.  She'll  probably  take  whatever 
Mrs.  Ames  takes. 

"Then  there  are  the  table  decorations.  I  wish 
to  goodness  I  could  remember  whether  it  was 
wall-flower  she  said.  I  think  it  must  have  been, 
because  I  remember  making  some  putrid  joke  to 
her  once  about  like  attracting  unlike.  Anyhow, 
it's  too  late  to  change  it  now.  I've  plumped  for 
wall-flower,  and  the  room  simply  stinks  of  it. 

"Then  the  seats.  Me  at  the  head,  with  Mrs. 
Ames  on  one  hand  and  her  on  the  other.  Uncle 
Jimmy  at  the  end,  with  Ames  on  his  left  and 
Dicky  Lunn  between  Mrs.  Ames  and  Uncle 
Jimmy.  Yes,  Ames  must  sit  there.  Lord  knows, 
Dicky  Lunn  should  be  safe  enough,  but  you  never 
know  what  sort  of  man  a  girl  won't  take  a  fancy 
to.  And  after  all,  Ames  is  married,"  added  the 
infatuated  youth. 

"  Then  Mrs.  Gunn.  I  think  I  've  told  her  every- 


INTRODUCES  THE   HEROINE      25 

thing."  He  feverishly  ticked  off  his  admonitions 
on  his  fingers.  "  Let  me  see,  — 

"  One:  not  to  put  used  plates  on  the  floor. 

"  Two:  not  to  join  in  the  conversation. 

"  Three:  not  to  let  that  wobbly  affair  in  her 
bonnet  dip  into  the  food. 

"  Four:  not  to  breathe  on  things  or  polish  them 
with  her  apron,  except  out  of  sight. 

"Five:  not  to  attempt  on  any  account  to  hand 
round  the  drink. 

"  Six:  to  go  away  directly  after  lunch  and  not 
trot  in  and  out  of  the  gyp-room  munching  re- 
mains. 

"The  tea- hamper  should  be  all  right.  Trust 
the  kitchens  for  that !  I  must  remember  to  stick 
in  a  box  of  chocolates,  though.  And  I  don't  think 
I  need  bother  about  dinner,  as  they  are  going  to 
send  in  Richards  to  wait.  Anyhow,  I  shall  have 
the  boat  off  my  chest  by  that  time.  That  will  be 
something,  especially  if  — " 

Hughie  lapsed  into  silence,  and  for  a  moment 
a  vision  of  love  requited  gave  place  in  his  imagina- 
tion to  the  spectacle  of  the  Benedictine  crew  going 
Head  of  the  river. 

His  reflections  were  interrupted  by  the  arrival 
of  his  equipage  at  that  combined  masterpiece 
of  imposing  architecture  and  convenient  arrange- 
ment, Cambridge  railway  station.  The  platform 
was  crowded  with  young  men,  most  of  them  in 


26    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"athletic  dress,"  waiting  for  the  London  train. 
The  brows  of  all  were  seamed  with  care,  partak- 
ing in  all  probability  of  the  domestic  and  amorous 
variety  which  obsessed  poor  Hughie. 

The  train  as  usual  dashed  into  the  station  with 
a  haughty  can't-stop-at-a-hole-like-this  expres- 
sion, only  to  clank  across  some  points  and  grind 
itself  to  an  ignominious  and  asthmatic  standstill 
at  a  distant  point  beside  the  solitary  and  inter- 
minable platform  which,  together  with  a  ticket- 
office  and  a  bookstall,  prevents  Cambridge  rail- 
way station  from  being  mistaken  for  a  rather 
out-of-date  dock-shed. 

Presently  Hughie,  running  rapidly,  observed 
his  guests  descending  from  a  carriage. 

First  came  a  pleasant-faced  lady  of  between 
thirty  and  forty,  followed  by  a  stout  and  easy- 
going husband.  Next,  an  oldish  gentleman  with 
a  white  moustache  and  a  choleric  blue  eye. 
And  finally  —  pretty,  fresh,  and  disturbing  —  ap- 
peared the  Jons  et  origo  of  the  entire  expedition, 
on  whose  account  the  disposition  and  incidents  of 
Hughie's  luncheon-party  had  been  so  cunningly 
planned  and  so  laboriously  rehearsed  —  Miss 
Mildred  Freshwater. 

The  party  greeted  their  host  characteristically. 
His  uncle,  even  as  he  shook  hands,  let  drop  a  few 
fervent  anticipatory  remarks  on  the  subject  of 
lunch;  Mr.  Ames,  who  was  an  old  college  boat 


INTRODUCES  THE   HEROINE       27 

captain,  coupled  his  greeting  with  an  anxious 
inquiry  as  to  the  club's  prospects  of  success  that 
evening;  Mrs.  Ames'  eyes  plainly  said,  "Well, 
I've  brought  her,  my  boy;  now  wire  hi!"  and 
Miss  Freshwater,  when  it  came  to  her  turn,  shook 
hands  with  an  unaffected  pleasure  and  camara- 
derie which  would  have  suited  Hughie  better  if 
there  had  been  discernible  upon  her  face  what 
Yum- Yum  once  pithily  summed  up  as  "a  trace 
of  diffidence  or  shyness." 

Still,  Hughie  was  so  enraptured  with  the  vision 
before  him  that  he  failed  to  observe  a  small  and 
shrinking  figure  which  had  coyly  emerged  from 
the  train,  and  was  hanging  back,  as  if  doubtful 
about  its  reception,  behind  Mrs.  Ames'  skirts. 
Presently  it  detached  itself  and  stood  before 
Hughie  in  the  form  of  a  small  girl  with  coppery 
brown  hair  and  wide  grey-blue  eyes. 

"Joey!"  shouted  Hughie. 

"She  would  come !"  explained  his  uncle,  in  the 
resigned  tones  of  a  strong  man  who  knows  his 
limits. 

The  lady  indicated  advanced  to  Hughie's  side, 
and,  taking  his  hand,  rubbed  herself  ingratiatingly 
against  him  in  the  inarticulate  but  eloquent  man- 
ner peculiar  to  dumb  animals  and  young  children. 


CHAPTER  III 

JIMMY  MARRABLE 

LUNCHEON  on  the  whole  was  a  success,  though 
Mrs.  Gunn's  behaviour  exceeded  anything  that 
Hughie  had  feared. 

She  began  by  keeping  the  ladies  adjusting  their 
hair  in  Hughie's  bedroom  for  something  like  ten 
minutes,  while  she  recited  to  them  a  detailed  and 
revolting  description  of  her  most  recent  complaint. 
Later,  she  initiated  an  impromptu  and  unseemly 
campaign  —  beginning  with  a  skirmish  of  whis- 
pers in  the  doorway,  swelling  uproariously  to  what 
sounded  like  a  duet  between  a  cockatoo  and  a 
bloodhound  on  the  landing  outside,  and  dying 
away  to  an  irregular  fire  of  personal  innuendoes, 
which  dropped  over  the  banisters  one  by  one, 
like  the  gentle  dew  of  heaven,  on  to  the  head  of 
the  retreating  foe  beneath  —  with  a  kitchen- 
man  over  a  thumb-mark  on  a  pudding-plate. 

But  fortunately  for  Hughie  the  company  tacitly 
agreed  to  regard  her  as  a  form  of  comic  relief; 
and  when  she  kept  back  the  salad-dressing  for 
the  express  purpose  —  frustrated  at  the  very  last 
moment  —  of  pouring  it  over  the  sweets ;  yea, 
even  when  she  suddenly  plucked  a  hairpin  from 


JIMMY  MARRABLE  29 

her  head  with  which  to  spear  a  wasp  in  the  grassy 
corner  pudding,  the  ladies  agreed  that  she  was 
"an  old  pet."  When  Mrs.  Ames  went  so  far  as  to 
follow  her  into  the  gyp-room  after  lunch  and 
thank  her  for  her  trouble  in  waiting  upon  them, 
Mrs.  Gunn,  divided  between  extreme  gratifica- 
tion and  a  desire  to  lose  no  time,  unlimbered  her 
batteries  at  once ;  and  Hughie's  tingling  ears,  as 
he  handed  round  the  coffee,  overheard  the  porten- 
tous and  mysterious  fragment:  "Well,  mum,  I 
put  'im  straight  to  bed,  and  laid  a  hot  flannel  on 
his  — ,"  just  as  the  door  of  the  gyp-room  swung 
to  with  a  merciful  bang. 

It  was  now  after  two,  and  Hughie,  in  response 
to  a  generally  expressed  desire,  laid  before  his 
guests  a  detailed  programme  for  the  afternoon. 
He  proposed,  first  of  all,  to  show  them  round  the 
College.  After  that  the  party  would  proceed  to 
Ditton  Paddock  in  charge  of  Mr.  Richard  Lunn — 
who,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  been  selected  by 
Hughie  as  cavalier  on  account  of  his  exceptional 
qualifications  for  the  post  —  in  company  with  a 
substantial  tea-basket,  the  contents  of  which  he 
hoped  would  keep  them  fortified  in  body  and 
spirit  until  the  races  began  with  the  Second  Di- 
vision, about  five-thirty. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  get  us  down  to  Ditton, 
Hughie?"  inquired  his  uncle. 

"Well,  there's  a  fly  which  will  hold  five  of  you, 


30    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

and  I  thought"  —  Hughie  cleared  his  throat  — 
"I  could  take  the  other  one  down  in  a  canoe." 

There  was  a  brief  pause,  while  the  company, 
glancing  at  one  another  with  varying  expressions 
of  solemnity,  worked  out  mental  problems  in 
Permutations  and  Combinations.  Presently  the 
tactless  Ames  inquired :  — 

"  Which  one  are  you  going  to  take  in  the  canoe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  anybody,"  said  Hughie,  in  a  voice  which 
said  as  plainly  as  possible:  "Silly  old  ass!" 

However,  realising  that  it  is  no  use  to  continue 
skirmishing  after  your  cover  has  been  destroyed, 
he  directed  a  gaze  of  invitation  upon  Miss  Fresh- 
water, who  was  sitting  beside  him  on  the  seat. 

She  turned  to  him  before  he  could  speak. 

"Hughie,"  she  said  softly,  "take  that  child. 
Just  look  at  her!" 

Hughie  obediently  swallowed  something,  and 
turned  to  the  wide-eyed  and  wistful  picture  on 
the  sofa. 

"Will  you  come,  Joey?"  he  inquired. 

The  lady  addressed  signified,  by  a  shudder  of 
ecstasy,  that  the  answer  to  the  invitation  was  in 
the  affirmative. 

"  Meanwhile,"  said  Mr.  Marrable,  "  I  am  going 
to  smoke  a  cigar  before  I  stir  out  of  this  room. 
And  if  you  people  will  spare  Hughie  for  ten  min- 
utes, I'll  keep  him  here  and  have  a  short  talk 
with  him.  I  must  go  back  to-night." 


JIMMY  MARRABLE  31 

The  accommodating  Mr.  Lunn  suggested  that 
this  interval  should  be  bridged  by  a  personally 
conducted  expedition  to  his  rooms  downstairs, 
where  he  would  have  great  pleasure  in  exhibiting 
to  the  company  a  "rather  decent"  collection  of 
door-knockers  and  bell-handles,  the  acquisition  of 
which  articles  of  vertu  (he  being  a  youth  of  strong 
wrist  and  fleet  foot)  was  a  special  hobby  of  his. 

Hughie  was  left  alone  with  his  uncle  —  the 
only  relation  he  possessed  in  the  world,  and  the 
man  who  had  been  to  him  both  father  and  mother 
for  nearly  eighteen  years. 

Hughie  had  been  born  in  India.  His  recollec- 
tions of  his  parents  were  vague  in  the  extreme, 
but  if  he  shut  both  eyes  and  pressed  hard  upon 
them  with  his  hands  he  could  summon  up  various 
pictures  of  a  beautiful  lady,  whose  arms  were 
decked  with  glittering  playthings  that  jingled 
musically  when  she  carved  the  chicken  for 
Hughie's  nursery  dinner.  He  particularly  remem- 
bered these  arms,  for  their  owner  had  a  pleasant 
habit  of  coming  up  to  kiss  him  good-night  after 
his  ayah  had  put  him  to  bed.  On  these  occa- 
sions they  were  always  bare ;  and  Hughie  remem- 
bered quite  distinctly  how  much  more  comfortable 
they  were  then  than  next  morning  at  tiffin,  when 
they  were  enclosed  in  sleeves  which  sometimes 
scratched. 

Of  his  father  he  remembered  less,  except  that 


32    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

he  was  a  very  large  person  who  wore  gorgeous 
raiment  of  scarlet.  Also  things  on  his  heels  which 
clicked.  He  had  a  big  voice,  too,  this  man,  and 
he  used  to  amuse  himself  by  training  Hughie  to 
stand  stiffly  erect  whenever  he  cried,  "'Shun!" 

Hughie  also  remembered  a  voyage  on  a  big 
ship,  where  the  passengers  made  much  of  him, 
and  a  fascinating  person  in  a  blue  jersey  (which 
unfortunately  scratched)  presented  him  with  nu- 
merous string  balls,  which  smelt  most  gloriously 
of  tar  but  always  fell  into  the  Indian  Ocean  or 
some  other  inaccessible  place. 

Then  he  remembered  arriving  with  his  parents 
at  a  big  bungalow  in  a  compound  full  of  grass- 
plots  and  flower-beds,  where  a  person  whom  he 
afterwards  learned  to  call  Uncle  Jimmy  greeted 
him  gravely  and  asked  him  to  accept  his  hospi- 
tality for  a  time.  After  that  —  quite  soon  —  he 
remembered  saying  good-bye  to  his  parents,  or 
rather,  his  parents  saying  good-bye  to  him.  The 
big  man  shook  him  long  and  solemnly  by  the 
hand,  which  hurt  a  good  deal  but  impressed 
Hughie  deeply,  and  the  beautiful  lady's  arms  — 
with  thick  sleeves  on,  too !  —  clung  round  Hughie's 
neck  till  he  thought  he  would  choke.  But  he  stood 
stiffly  at  "  'shun"  all  the  time,  because  his  parents 
seemed  thoroughly  unhappy  about  something, 
and  he  desired  to  please  them.  He  had  never  had 
a  woman's  arms  round  his  neck  since. 


JIMMY  MARRABLE  33 

After  his  parents  had  gone,  he  settled  down 
happily  enough  in  the  big  compound,  which  he 
soon  learned  to  call  "the  garding."  The  name 
of  the  bungalow  he  gathered  from  most  of  the 
people  with  whom  he  came  in  contact  was  "  The 
'All,"  though  there  were  some  who  called  it 
"Manors,"  and  Uncle  Jimmy,  who,  too,  appa- 
rently possessed  more  than  one  name,  was  inva- 
riably referred  to  by  Hughie's  friends  in  the  vil- 
lage as  "Ole  Peppery." 

Very  shortly  after  his  parents'  departure  Hughie 
overheard  a  conversation  between  his  uncle  and 
Mrs.  Capper,  the  lady  who  managed  the  house- 
hold, which  puzzled  him  a  good  deal. 

"Understand,  Capper,  I  won't  have  it,"  said 
his  uncle. 

"Think  what  people  will  say,  sir,"  urged  Mrs. 
Capper  respectfully  but  insistently. 

"I  don't  care  a"  —  Capper  coughed  discreetly 
here  —  "  what  people  say.  The  boy  is  not  going 
to  be  decked  out  in  crape  and  hearse-plumes  to 
please  you  or  any  other  old  woman." 

"Hearse-plumes  would  not  be  essential,  sir," 
said  the  literal  Capper.  "But  I  think  the  child 
should  have  a  little  black  suit." 

"The  child  will  run  about  in  his  usual  rags," 
replied  Old  Peppery,  in  a  voice  of  thunder ;  "  and 
if  I  catch  you  or  any  one  else  stuffing  him  up  with 
yarns  about  canker-worms  or  hell-fire,  or  any 


34    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

trimmings  of  that  description,  I  tell  you  straight 
that  there  will  be  the  father  and  mother  of  a  row." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Capper  meekly.  "And  I  de- 
sire, sir,"  she  added  in  the  same  even  tone,  "to 
give  warning." 

Thereupon  Uncle  Jimmy  had  stamped  his  way 
downstairs  to  the  hall,  and  Hughie  was  left  won- 
dering what  the  warning  could  have  been  which 
Mrs.  Capper  desired  to  utter.  It  must  have  been 
a  weighty  one,  for  she  continued  to  deliver  it  at 
intervals  during  the  next  ten  years,  long  indeed 
after  Hughie's  growing  intelligence  had  dis- 
covered its  meaning.  But  her  utterances  received 
about  as  much  attention  from  her  employer  as 
Cassandra's  from  hers. 

However,  the  immediate  result  of  the  conver- 
sation recorded  above  was  that  Mrs.  Capper  made 
no  attempt  to  deck  Hughie  in  crape  or  hearse- 
plumes;  and  later  on,  when  he  was  old  enough 
to  understand  the  meaning  of  death,  his  uncle 
told  him  how  his  parents  had  gone  to  their  God 
together  —  "  the  happiest  fate,  old  man,  that  can 
fall  on  husband  and  wife"  —  one  stormy  night  in 
the  Bay  of  Biscay,  in  company  with  every  other 
soul  on  board  the  troop-ship  Helianthus,  and  that 
henceforth  Hughie  must  be  prepared  to  regard 
the  broken-down  old  buffer  before  him  as  his 
father  and  mother. 

Hughie  had  gravely  accepted  this  arrangement, 


JIMMY  MARRABLE  35 

and  for  more  than  seventeen  years  he  and  his 
uncle  had  treated  one  another  as  father  and  son. 

Jimmy  Marrable  was  a  little  eccentric,  —  but 
so  are  most  old  bachelors,  —  and  like  a  good 
many  eccentric  men  he  rather  prided  himself  on 
his  peculiarities.  If  anything,  he  rather  culti- 
vated them.  One  of  his  most  startling  character- 
istics was  a  habit  of  thinking  aloud.  He  would 
emerge  unexpectedly  from  a  brown  study,  to 
comment  to  himself  with  stunning  suddenness 
and  absolute  candour  on  the  appearance  and 
manners  of  those  around  him.  It  was  credibly  re- 
ported that  he  had  once  taken  a  rather  intense  and 
voluble  lady  in  to  dinner,  and  after  regarding 
her  for  some  time  with  a  fixity  of  attention  which 
had  deluded  the  good  soul  into  the  belief  that  he 
was  hanging  on  her  lips,  had  remarked  to  him- 
self, with  appalling  distinctness,  during  a  lull  in 
the  conversation :  "  Guinea  set  —  misfit  at  the 
top  —  gutta-percha  fixings  —  wonder  they  don't 
drop  into  her  soup ! "  and  continued  his  meal  with- 
out any  apparent  consciousness  of  having  said 
anything  unusual. 

He  was  eccentric,  too,  about  other  matters. 
Once  Hughie,  returning  from  school  for  his  holi- 
days, discovered  that  there  had  been  an  addition 
to  the  family  in  his  absence. 

Mrs.  Capper's  very  face  in  the  hall  told  him 
that  something  was  wrong.  Its  owner  informed 


36    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

Hughie  that  though  one  should  be  prepared  to 
take  life  as  one  found  it,  and  live  and  let  live  had 
been  her  motto  from  infancy,  her  equilibrium 
ever  since  the  thing  had  happened  had  lain  at 
the  mercy  of  the  first  aggressively  disposed  fea- 
ther that  came  along,  and  what  people  in  the 
neighbourhood  would  say  she  dared  not  think. 

She  ran  on.  Hughie  waited  patiently,  and  pre- 
sently unearthed  the  facts. 

A  few  weeks  ago  the  master  had  returned  from 
a  protracted  visit  to  London,  bringing  with  him 
two  children.  He  had  announced  that  the  pair 
were  henceforth  to  be  regarded  as  permanent  in- 
mates of  the  establishment.  Beyond  the  fact 
that  one  brat  was  fair  and  a  boy  and  the  other 
darkish  and  a  girl,  and  that  Mrs.  Capper  had 
given  warning  on  sight,  Hughie  could  elicit  no- 
thing, and  waited  composedly  for  his  uncle  to 
come  home  from  shooting. 

Jimmy  Marrable,  when  he  arrived,  was  not 
communicative.  He  merely  stated  that  the  little 
devils  were  the  children  of  an  old  friend  of  his, 
called  Gaymer,  who  had  died  suddenly  and  left 
them  to  be  brought  up  by  him  as  guardian. 

"And  Hughie,  my  son,"  he  concluded,  "if  you 
don't  want  your  head  bitten  off  you  will  refrain 
in  this  case  from  indulging  in  your  propensity 
for  asking  why  and  getting  to  the  bottom  of 
things.  I'm  not  best  pleased  at  finding  them  on 


JIMMY  MARRABLE  37 

my  hands,  but  here  they  are  and  there's  an  end 
of  it.  The  girl  is  five  —  ten  years  younger  than 
you  —  and  the  boy's  eight.  She  is  called  Joan, 
and  his  idiotic  name  is  Lancelot  Wellesley.  I 
wonder  they  did  n't  christen  him  Galahad  Na- 
poleon !  Come  upstairs  and  see  them." 

All  this  had  occurred  seven  years  ago.  During 
that  time  Lancelot  Wellesley  Gaymer  had  grown 
up  sufficiently  to  go  to  a  public  school,  and  con- 
sequently Miss  Joan  Gaymer  had  been  left  very 
much  in  the  company  of  the  curious  old  gentle- 
man whom  she  had  soon  learned  to  call  Unker 
Zimmy.  Of  their  relations  it  will  be  sufficient  at 
present  to  mention  that  a  more  curiously  as- 
sorted and  more  thoroughly  devoted  couple  it 
would  be  difficult  to  find. 

Jimmy  Marrable  reclined  on  the  window  seat 
and  smoked  his  cigar.  His  nephew,  enviously 
eyeing  the  blue  smoke,  sprawled  in  an  arm-chair. 

"Hughie,"  said  the  elder  man  suddenly,  "how 
old" are  you  ?  Twenty-one,  is  n't  it  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  are  you  going  down  for  good  next  week  ? 

"Yes."    Hughie  sighed. 

"Got  a  degree?" 

"Tell  you  on  Tuesday." 

"Tell  me  now." 

"Well  —yes,  I  should  think." 

"What  in?" 


38    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"  Mechanical  Stinks  —  Engineering.  Second 
Class,  if  I'm  lucky." 

"Urn.    Got  any  vices?" 

"Not  specially." 

"Drink?" 

"No." 

"Not  a  teetotaller?"  said  Jimmy  Man-able  in 
some  concern. 

"No." 

"That's  good.   Ever  been  drunk ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Badly,  I  mean.  I  'm  not  talking  about  bump- 
supper  exhilaration." 

"Only  once." 

"When?" 

"My  first  term." 

"What  for?" 

"To  see  what  it  was  like." 

"Perfectly  sound  proceeding,"  commented 
Jimmy  Marrable.  "  What  were  your  impressions 
of  the  experiment?" 

"I  have  n't  got  any,"  said  Hughie  frankly.  "I 
only  woke  up  next  morning  in  bed  with  my 
boots  on." 

"Who  put  you  there?" 

"Seven  other  devils." 

"And  you  have  not  repeated  the  experiment  ?" 

"No.  There's  no  need.  I  know  my  capacity 
to  a  glass  now." 


JIMMY  MARRABLE  39 

"Then  you  know  something  really  worth  know- 
ing," remarked  Jimmy  Marrable  with  sincerity. 
"  Now,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  yourself  ? 
Why  not  go  and  see  the  world  a  bit  ?  You  have 
always  wanted  to.  And  do  it  thoroughly  while 
you  are  about  it.  Take  five  years  over  it;  ten  if 
you  like.  You  will  like,  you  know.  It's  in  the 
blood.  That's  why  I  think  you  are  wise  not  to 
want  to  enter  the  Service.  You  can  always  scrape 
in  somewhere  if  there  is  a  war,  and  barrack-life 
in  time  of  peace  would  corrode  your  very  heart 
out.  It  nearly  killed  your  dad  at  five-and-twenty. 
That  was  why  he  exchanged  and  took  to  the 
Frontier,  and  ended  his  days  in  command  of  a 
Goorkha  regiment.  Life  at  first  hand;  that's 
what  we  Marrables  thrive  on !  I  never  set  foot  in 
this  country  myself  between  the  ages  of  twenty 
and  thirty-three.  I  would  come  with  you  again 
if  it  was  n't  for  Anno  Domini  —  and  the  nippers. 
But  you'll  find  a  good  many  old  friends  of  mine 
dotted  about  the  world.  They're  not  all  folk  I 
could  give  you  letters  of  introduction  to  —  some 
of  'em  don't  speak  English  and  others  can't  read 
and  write;  but  they'll  show  you  the  ropes  better 
than  any  courier.  You  take  my  advice,  and  go. 
England  is  no  place  for  a  young  man  with  money 
and  no  particular  profession,  until  he's  over  thirty 
and  ready  to  marry.  Will  you  go,  Hughie?" 

Hughie's  expression  showed  that  he  was  con- 


40    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

sidering  the  point  rather  reluctantly.  His  uncle 
continued :  — 

"  Money  all  right,  I  suppose  ?  You  have  eight 
hundred  a-year  now  you  are  of  age.  Got  any 
debts,  eh?  I'll  help  you." 

"None  to  speak  of.    Thanks  all  the  same." 

"Well;  why  not  go?" 

"I  should  like  to  go  more  than  anything,"  said 
Hughie  slowly,  "but—" 

"Well?" 

"I  don't  know  —  that  is  — ' 

"I  cfo,"  said  Jimmy  Marrable  with  character- 
istic frankness.  "  You  are  struggling  between  an 
instinct  which  tells  you  to  do  the  sensible  thing  and 
an  overpowering  desire  to  do  a  dashed  silly  one." 

Hughie  grew  very  red. 

His  uncle  continued :  — 

"You  want  to  marry  that  girl." 

Hughie  blazed  up. 

"I  do,"  he  said,  rather  defiantly. 

The  cigar  glowed  undisturbedly. 

"You  think  that  life  has  no  greater  happiness 
to  offer  you  ?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  Hughie,  with  an  air  of 
one  stating  a  simple  truth. 

"And  you  are  twenty-one?" 

"Ye — es,"  with  less  fire. 

Jimmy  Marrable  smoked  reflectively  for  a  few 
minutes. 


JIMMY  MARRABLE  41 

"I  am  an  old  bachelor,"  he  said  at  last,  "and 
old  bachelors  are  supposed  to  know  nothing  about 
love-affairs.  The  truth  of  course  is  that  they 
know  far  more  than  any  one  else." 

Hughie  was  accustomed  to  these  obiter  dicta. 

"Why?"  he  asked  dutifully. 

"Well,  for  the  same  reason  that  a  broken 
swashbuckler  knows  a  deal  more  about  soldier- 
ing than  a  duly  enrolled  private  of  the  line.  He 
has  had  a  more  varied  experience.  The  longer  a 
man  remains  a  bachelor  the  more  he  learns  about 
women ;  and  the  more  he  learns  about  women  the 
better  able  he  will  be  to  make  his  way  in  the 
world.  Therefore,  if  he  marries  young  he  reduces 
his  chances  of  success  in  life  to  a  minimum. 
The  sad  part  about  it  all  is  that,  provided  he 
gets  the  girl  he  wants,  he  does  n't  care.  That, 
by  the  way,  is  the  reason  why  nearly  all  the  most 
famous  men  in  history  have  either  been  unhap- 
pily married  or  not  married  at  all.  Happiness 
has  no  history.  Happily  married  men  are  never 
ambitious.  They  don't  go  toiling  and  panting 
after  — :" 

"They  have  no  need  to,"  said  Hughie.  "A 
man  does  n't  go  on  running  after  a  tram-car  after 
he  has  caught  it." 

"  That  begs  the  question,  Hughie.  It  presumes 
that  all  the  available  happiness  in  the  world  is 
contained  in  one  particular  tram-car.  Besides, 


42    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

the  tram-cars  you  mean  are  intended  for  men 
over  thirty.  The  young  ought  to  walk." 

Hughie  realised  that  the  conversation  was 
growing  rather  too  subtle  for  him,  and  reverted 
to  plain  cut  and  thrust. 

"  Then  you  think  no  man  should  marry  before 
thirty?"  he  said. 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind !  It  depends  on  the  man. 
If  he  is  a  steady,  decent,  average  sort  of  fellow, 
who  regards  a  ledger  as  a  Bible  and  an  office- 
stool  as  a  stepping-stone  to  the  summit  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  possesses  no  particular  aptitude  for 
the  rough-and-tumble  of  life,  the  sooner  he  mar- 
ries and  settles  down  as  a  contented  old  pram- 
pusher  the  better  for  him  and  the  nation.  Do 
you  fancy  yourself  in  that  line,  Hughie?" 

"No-o-o,"  said  Hughie  reluctantly.  "But  I 
might  learn,"  he  added  hopefully.  "I'm  a  pretty 
adaptable  bloke." 

Jimmy  Marrable  threw  his  cigar-end  out  of 
the  window,  and  sat  up. 

"Listen,  Hughie,"  he  said,  "and  I'll  tell  you 
what  you  really  are.  You  are  the  son  of  a  mother 
who  climbed  out  of  her  bedroom  window  (and 
let  herself  down  a  rain-pipe  that  I  would  n't  have 
trusted  a  monkey  on)  in  order  to  elope  with  the 
man  she  loved.  Your  father  was  the  commander 
of  as  tough  a  native  regiment  as  I  have  ever 
known.  Your  grandfather  was  an  explorer.  I  've 


JIMMY  MARRABLE  43 

been  a  bit  of  a  rolling-stone  myself.  About  one 
relation  of  yours  in  three  dies  in  his  bed.  You 
come  of  a  stock  which  prefers  to  go  and  see 
things  for  itself  rather  than  read  about  them  in 
the  newspaper,  and  which  has  acquired  a  con- 
siderable knowledge  of  the  art  of  handling  men 
in  the  process.  Those  are  rather  rare  assets.  If 
you  take  a  woman  in  tow  at  the  tender  age  of 
twenty-one,  there  will  be  a  disaster.  Either  you 
will  sit  at  home  and  eat  your  heart  out,  or  you 
will  go  abroad  and  leave  her  to  eat  out  hers.  Am 
I  talking  sense?" 

Hughie  sighed  like  a  furnace. 

"Yes,  confound  you!"  he  said. 

"  Will  you  promise  not  to  rush  into  matrimony, 
then?" 

"Perhaps  she'll  wait  for  me,"  mused  Hughie. 

"How  old  is  she?" 

"Twenty-one,  like  me." 

"H'm,"  remarked  Jimmy  Marrable  drily. 
"That  means  that  she  is  for  all  practical  pur- 
poses ten  years  your  senior.  However,  perhaps 
she  will.  Pigs  might  fly.  But  will  you  promise 
me  to  think  the  matter  over  very  carefully  before 
deciding  not  to  go  abroad?" 

"Yes,"  said  Hughie. 

"That  being  the  case,"  continued  his  uncle 
briskly,  "I  want  to  tell  you  one  or  two  things.  If 
you  do  go,  I  may  never  see  you  again." 


44    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"  I  say,"  said  Hughie  in  alarm,  "  there's  nothing 
wrong  with  your  health,  is  there,  old  man?" 

"  Bless  you,  no !  But  once  a  Marrable  takes  to 
the  wilds  Methuselah  himself  could  n't  reckon 
on  living  long  enough  to  see  him  again.  So  I  am 
going  to  talk  to  you  while  I've  got  you.  I  am 
taking  this  opportunity  of  being  near  town  to 
see  my  solicitor  and  make  my  will.  I  am  fit 
enough,  but  I  am  fifty  this  year ;  and  at  that  age 
a  man  ought  to  make  some  disposition  of  his  pro- 
perty. I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  I  have  left  you 
nothing.  Annoyed  ?  " 

"Not  in  the  least." 

"And  I  have  left  nothing  to  Master  Lance." 

Hughie  looked  a  little  surprised  at  this. 

"I  mean  to  start  him  on  his  own  legs  before 
my  demise,"  explained  Jimmy  Marrable.  "Im- 
mediately, in  fact.  That  is  partly  what  I  am  going 
up  to  town  for.  I  am  investing  a  sum  for  him 
which  ought  to  bring  him  in  about  two  hundred 
a  year  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  He's  nearly  six- 
teen now,  and  he'll  have  to  administer  his  income 
himself  —  pay  his  own  school-bills  and  every- 
thing. Just  as  I  made  you  do.  Nothing  like  ac- 
customing a  boy  to  handling  money  when  he's 
young.  Then  he  does  n't  go  a  mucker  when  he 
suddenly  comes  into  a  lot  of  it.  I  shan't  give  him 
more,  because  it  would  prevent  him  from  work- 
ing. Two  hundred  won't.  A  slug  would  perhaps 


JIMMY  MARRABLE  45 

live  contentedly  enough  on  it,  but  Lancelot 
Wellesley  Gaymer  is  a  pretentious  young  sweep, 
and  he'll  work  in  order  to  gain  the  means  for 
making  a  splash.  The  two  hundred  will  keep  him 
going  till  he  finds  his  feet." 

Jimmy  Marrable  paused,  and  surveyed  his 
nephew  rather  irritably. 

"Well,"  he  inquired  at  length,  "haven't  you 
any  contribution  to  make  to  this  conversation?" 

"Can't  say  I  have  had  much  chance  so  far," 
replied  the  disrespectful  Hughie. 

"Don't  you  want  to  know  what  I'm  going  to 
do  with  the  rest  of  my  money?  That's  a  ques- 
tion that  a  good  many  people  are  worrying  them- 
selves about.  Don't  you  want  to  join  in  the  in- 
quisition?" 

"Can't  say  I  do.    No  business  of  mine." 

His  uncle  surveyed  him  curiously. 

"You're  infernally  like  your  father,  Hughie," 
he  said.  "Well,  I'm  going  to  leave  it  to  Joey." 

"Good  scheme,"  said  Hughie. 

"You  think  so?" 

"Rather!" 

"There  's  a  lot  of  it,"  continued  his  uncle  reflec- 
tively. "  Some  of  it  is  tied  up  rather  queerly,  too. 
My  executors  will  have  a  bit  of  a  job." 

He  surveyed  the  impassive  Hughie  again. 

"Don't  you  want  to  know  who  my  executors 
are?"  he  inquired  quite  angrily. 


46    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"No,"  said  Hughie,  who  was  deep  in  other 
thoughts  at  the  moment.  "Not  my  business,"  he 
repeated. 

"Hughie,"  said  Jimmy  Marrable,  "you  are 
poor  Arthur  over  again.  He  was  a  cursedly  irri- 
tating chap  at  times,"  he  added  explosively. 

A  babble  of  cheerful  voices  on  the  staircase 
announced  the  return  of  the  safe-looking  Mr. 
Lunn  and  party.  They  flowed  in,  entranced  with 
that  gentleman's  door-knockers  (the  counte- 
nances of  which,  by  the  way,  were  usually  com- 
pared by  undergraduate  critics,  not  at  all  unfa- 
vourably, with  that  of  their  owner),  and  declared 
themselves  quite  ready  now  to  be  properly  im- 
pressed by  whatever  features  of  the  College 
Hughie  should  be  pleased  to  exhibit  to  them. 

One  tour  round  a  College  is  very  like  another ; 
and  we  need  not  therefore  follow  our  friends  up 
and  down  winding  staircases,  or  in  and  out  of 
chapels  and  libraries,  while  they  gaze  down  on 
the  resting-places  of  the  illustrious  dead  or  gape 
up  at  the  ephemeral  abodes  of  the  undistinguished 
living. 

The  expedition  was  chiefly  remarkable  (to  the 
observant  eye  of  Mrs.  Ames)  for  the  efforts  made 
by  its  conductor  to  get  lost  in  suitable  company  — 
an  enterprise  which  was  invariably  frustrated  by 
the  resolute  conduct  of  that  small  but  determined 
hero-worshipper,  Miss  Joan  Gaymer.  On  one 


JIMMY  MARRABLE  47 

occasion,  however,  Hughie  and  Miss  Freshwater 
were  left  together  for  a  moment.  The  party  had 
finished  surveying  the  prospect  from  the  roof  of 
the  College  Chapel,  and  were  painfully  groping 
their  way  in  single  file  down  a  spiral  staircase. 
Only  Hughie,  Miss  Freshwater,  and  the  ubiqui- 
tous Miss  Gaymer  were  left  at  the  top. 

"You  go  next,  Joey,"  said  Hughie;  "then  Miss 
Freshwater,  then  me." 

The  lady  addressed  plunged  obediently  into 
the  gloomy  chasm  at  her  feet.  She  observed  with 
frank  jealousy  that  the  other  two  did  not  imme- 
diately follow  her,  and  accordingly  waited  for 
them  in  the  belfry  half-way  down. 

Presently  she  heard  their  footsteps  descending ; 
and  Miss  Freshwater's  voice  said :  — 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  about  it  first  of  anybody, 
Hughie,  because  you  and  I  have  always  been  such 
friends.  Nobody  else  knows  yet." 

There  was  a  silence,  broken  only  by  Hughie's 
footsteps,  evidently  negotiating  a  difficult  turn. 
Then  Miss.  Freshwater's  voice  continued,  a  little 
wistfully :  — 

"Are  n't  you  going  to  congratulate  me  ?" 

And  Hughie's  voice,  sounding  strangely  sepul- 
chral in  the  echoing  darkness,  replied :  — 

" Rather !  I  —  I  —  hope  you'll  be  very  happy. 
Mind  that  step." 

Miss  Gaymer  wondered  what  it  was  all  about. 


48    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

Hughie  found  an  opportunity  before  the  day 
was  over  of  holding  another  brief  conversation 
with  his  uncle,  in  the  course  of  which  he  expressed 
an  opinion  on  the  advantages  of  immediate  and 
extensive  foreign  travel  which  sent  that  opponent 
of  early  marriages  back  to  town  in  a  thoroughly 
satisfied  frame  of  mind. 

"There  ought  to  be  a  statue,"  said  Jimmy 
Marrable  to  his  cigar,  as  he  leaned  back  reflec- 
tively in  his  railway  carriage,  "  set  up  in  the  capi- 
tal of  every  British  Colony,  representing  a  female 
figure  in  an  attitude  of  aloofness,  and  inscribed : 
Erected  by  a  grateful  Colony  to  its  Principal  Emi- 
gration Agent  —  The  Girl  at  Home  Who  Married 
'Somebody  Else" 

Then  he  sighed  to  himself  —  rather  forlornly, 
a  woman  would  have  said. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AN  UNDERSTUDY 

"  The  indulgence  of  the  audience  is  asked  on  behalf  of  Miss  Joan 
Gaymer  t  who,  owing  to  the  sudden  indisposition  of  Miss  Mildred 
Freshwater,  has  taken  up  that  lady's  part  at  very  short  notice." 

A  COUPLE  of  hours  later  Hughie,  roaring  very 
gently  for  so  great  a  lion,  was  engaged  in  paddling 
a  Canadian  canoe  down  to  Ditton  Corner. 

The  canoe  contained  one  passenger,  who,  with 
feminine  indifference  to  the  inflexible  laws  of 
science,  was  endeavouring  to  assist  its  progress 
by  paddling  in  the  wrong  direction.  Her  small 
person,  propped  by  convenient  cushions,  was 
wedged  into  the  bow  of  the  vessel,  and  her  white 
frock  and  attenuated  black  legs  were  protected 
from  the  results  of  her  own  efforts  at  navigation 
by  a  spare  blazer  of  Hughie's.  Her  hat  lay  on  the 
floor  of  the  canoe,  half-full  of  cherries,  and  her 
long  hair  rippled  and  glimmered  in  the  afternoon 
sun.  Miss  Joan  Gaymer  would  be  a  beauty  some 
day,  but  for  the  present  all  knowledge  of  that  fact 
was  being  tactfully  withheld  from  her.  To  do  her 
justice,  the  prospect  would  have  interested  her 
but  little.  Like  most  small  girls  of  eleven,  she 
desired  nothing  so  much  at  present  as  to  resemble 


50    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

a  small  boy  as  closely  as  possible.  She  would 
rather  have  captured  one  bird's-nest  than  twenty 
hearts,  and  appearances  she  counted  as  dross 
provided  she  could  hold  her  own  in  a  Catherine- 
wheel  competition. 

They  were  rather  a  silent  couple.  Joan  was 
filled  with  that  contentment  which  is  beyond 
words.  She  was  wearing  a  new  frock ;  she  had 
escaped  under  an  escort  almost  exclusively  male 
—  if  we  except  the  benevolent  despotism  of  Mrs. 
Ames  —  from  home,  nurse,  and  governess,  to 
attend  a  series  of  purely  grown-up  functions; 
and  to  crown  all,  she  was  alone  in  the  canoe,  a 
light-blue  blazer  spread  over  her  knees,  with  one 
who  represented  to  her  small  experience  the  head 
and  summit  of  all  that  a  man  should  —  nay, 
could  —  be. 

"I  expect,"  she  remarked,  in  a  sudden  burst  of 
exultation,  as  the  canoe  slid  past  two  gorgeously 
arrayed  young  persons  who  were  seated  by  the 
water's  edge,  "that  those  two  are  pretty  sorry 
they  're  not  in  this  canoe  with  us." 

The  ladies  referred  to  arose  and  walked  inland 
with  some  deliberation.  Hughie  did  not  answer. 
His  brow  was  knitted  and  his  manner  somewhat 
absent. 

"Hughie,"  announced  Miss  Gaymer  reproach- 
fully, "you  are  looking  very  cross  at  me." 

She  had  a  curiously  gruff  and  hoarse  little 


AN  UNDERSTUDY  51 

voice,  and  suffered  in  addition  from  inability  to 
pronounce  those  elusive  consonants  r  and  /.  So 
she  did  not  say  "very  cross,"  but  "ve'y  c'oss," 
in  a  deep  bass. 

Hughie  roused  himself. 

"Sorry,  Joey!"  he  said;  "I  was  thinking." 

"Sec'ets?"  inquired  Miss  Gaymer,  all  agog 
with  femininity  at  once. 

"No." 

"Oh,"  —  rather  disappointedly.  "About  your 
old  boat,  then?" 

"Yes,"  said  Hughie  untruthfully.  "Do  you 
quite  understand  how  we  race  ?" 

"I  think  so,"  said  the  child.  "Your  boat  is 
second,  and  it  wants  to  bump  into  the  boat  in 
font  — is  that  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  do  it  just  when  you  pass  us,  will 
you  ?" 

"I'll  try,"  said  Hughie,  beginning  to  brighten 
up.  "But  it  may  take  longer  than  that.  About 
the  Railway  Bridge,  I  should  think." 

"And  after  the  race  will  you  take  me  home 
again?"  inquired  the  lady  anxiously. 

" Can't  be  done,  I'm  afraid.  The  race  finishes 
miles  from  Ditton,  where  you  will  be;  and  I 
should  n't  be  able  to  get  back  in  time.  You  had 
better  drive  home  with  the  others." 

"  When  shall  I  see  you  again,  then  ?"  demanded 


52    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

Miss  Gaymer,  who  was  not  of  an  age  to  be  reti- 
cent about  the  trend  of  her  virgin  affections. 

"About  seven.  You  are  all  coming  to  dine  in 
my  rooms." 

"Ooh!"  exclaimed  his  companion  in  a  flutter 
of  excitement.  "  How  long  can  I  sit  up  ?" 

"Ask  Mrs.  Ames,"  replied  the  diplomatic 
Hughie. 

"Till  ten?"  hazarded  Joey,  with  the  air  of  one 
initiating  a  Dutch  auction. 

"Don't  ask  me,  old  lady." 

"Supposing,"  suggested  Miss  Gaymer  craftily, 
"that  you  was  to  say  you  wanted  me  to  sit  up 
and  keep  you  company?" 

Hughie  laughed.  "  Afraid  that  would  n't  work. 
I  have  to  go  out  about  nine  to  a  Bump  Supper." 

"What's  that?" 

"A  College  supper,  in  honour  of  the  men  who 
have  been  rowing." 

"I  like  suppers,"  said  Miss  Gaymer  tentatively. 

Hughie  smiled.  "  I  don't  think  you  'd  like  this 
one,  Joey,"  he  said. 

"Why?  Don't  they  have  any  sixpences  or 
thimbles  in  the  t'ifle?"  said  Miss  Gaymer,  in 
whose  infant  mind  the  word  supper  merely  con- 
jured up  a  vision  of  sticky  children,  wearing  paper 
caps  out  of  crackers,  distending  themselves  un- 
der adult  supervision. 

"I  don't  think  they  have  any  trifle." 


AN  UNDERSTUDY  53 

"Perfectly  p'eposte'ous ! "  commented  Miss 
Gaymer  with  heat.  (I  think  it  has  already  been 
mentioned  that  she  spent  a  good  deal  of  her  time 
in  the  company  of  Jimmy  Marrable.)  "Ices  ?" 

"Let  me  see.    Yes  —  sometimes." 

"Ah!"  crooned  Joey,  with  a  happy  little  sigh. 
"Can't  I  come?" 

"Afraid  not,  madam.  Bump  Suppers  are  for 
gentlemen  only." 

"I  should  like  that,"  said  madam  frankly. 

"And  they  are  rather  noisy.  You  might  get 
frightened." 

"Not  if  I  was  sitting  alongside  of  you,"  was 
the  tender  reply. 

Joey's  anxiety  for  his  company  renewed 
Hughie's  depression  of  spirits.  Admiration  and 
confidence  are  very  desirable  tributes  to  receive ; 
but  when  they  come  from  every  quarter  save  the 
right  one  the  desirability  of  that  quarter  is  only 
intensified.  Poor  human  nature !  Hughie  sighed 
again  in  a  manner  which  caused  the  entire  canoe 
to  vibrate.  Miss  Gaymer  suddenly  turned  the 
conversation. 

"What  was  that  person  talking  to  you  about, 
Hughie?"  she  inquired. 

"Who?" 

"That  person  that  came  with  us  in  the  t'ain. 
Miss  — "  Joey's  mouth  twisted  itself  into  a 
hopeless  tangle. 


54    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"Freshwater?"  said  Hughie,  reddening. 

"Yes.  When  you  were  taking  us  round  the 
Co'ege  after  lunch  you  and  her  stayed  behind 
on  the  top  of  the  Chapel,  while  the  rest  of  us  were 
coming  down.  When  I  was  waiting  for  you,  I 
heard  her  say:  *  You 're  the  first  to  hear  of  it, 
Hughie.'  To  hear  of  what?" 

Hughie  looked  genuinely  disturbed. 

"I  don't  know  whether  she  wants  it  known 
yet,  Joey,"  he  said. 

Miss  Gaymer  assumed  an  expression  before 
which  she  knew  that  most  gentlemen  of  her  ac- 
quaintance, from  Uncle  Jimmy  down  to  the 
coachman  at  home,  were  powerless. 

"Hughie  dear,  you'll  tell  me,  won't  you?" 
she  said. 

Hughie,  making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  agreed. 

"  Well,  promise  you  won't  tell  anybody,"  he  said. 

"All  right,"  agreed  Miss  Gaymer,  pleasantly 
intrigued. 

"She's  going  to  be  married,"  said  Hughie,  in 
a  voice  which  he  endeavoured  to  make  as  matter- 
of-fact  as  possible.  It  was  not  a  very  successful 
effort.  At  twenty-one  these  things  hurt  quite 
as  much,  if  not  so  lastingly,  as  in  later  life. 

"I'm  ve'y  g'ad  to  hear  it,"  remarked  Miss 
Gaymer  with  composure. 

Hughie  looked  at  the  small  flushed  face  before 
him  rather  curiously. 


AN  UNDERSTUDY  55 

"Why,  Joey?"  he  asked. 

"Never  mind!"  replied  Miss  Gaymer  primly. 

After  that  the  conversation  languished,  for 
they  were  approaching  the  race-course,  and  boats 
of  every  size  and  rig  were  thronging  round  them. 
There  was  the  stately  family  gig,  with  an  aca- 
demic and  myopic  paterfamilias  at  the  helm  and 
his  numerous  progeny  at  the  oars,  sweeping  the 
deep  of  surrounding  craft  like  Van  Tromp's 
broom.  There  was  the  typical  May  Week  argosy, 
consisting  of  a  rowing-man's  mother  and  sisters, 
left  in  the  care  of  two  or  three  amorous  but  un- 
nautical  cricketers,  what  time  their  relative  per- 
formed prodigies  of  valour  in  the  Second  Divi- 
sion. There  was  also  a  particularly  noisome 
home-made  motor-boat,  —  known  up  and  down 
the  river  from  Grantchester  to  Ely  as  "The  Stink- 
pot," —  about  the  size  of  a  coffin,  at  present  oc- 
cupied (in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word)  by  its 
designer,  builder,  and  owner;  who,  packed  se- 
curely into  his  craft,  with  his  feet  in  a  pile  of  small 
coal,  the  end  of  the  boiler  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach, 
and  the  engines  working  at  fever  heat  between 
his  legs,  was  combining  the  duties  of  stoker,  en- 
gineer, helmsman,  and  finally  (with  conspicu- 
ous success)  director  of  ramming  operations. 

Through  these  various  obstacles  Hughie,  de- 
spite the  assistance  of  his  passenger,  directed  his 
canoe  with  unerring  precision,  and  finally  brought 


56    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

up  with  all  standing  beside  the  piles  at  Ditton. 
He  experienced  no  difficulty  in  making  arrange- 
ments for  the  return  journey  of  the  canoe,  for 
a  gentleman  of  his  acquaintance  begged  to  be 
allowed  the  privilege  of  navigating  it  home, 
pleading  internal  pressure  in  his  own  craft  as 
the  reason.  Hughie  granted  the  boon  with  alac- 
rity, merely  wondering  in  his  heart  which  of  the 
three  languishing  damsels  planted  round  his 
friend's  tea-urn  he  had  to  thank  for  the  deliver- 
ance. 

They  found  the  fly  in  a  good  position  close  to 
the  water,  with  the  rest  of  the  party  drinking  tea, 
and  meekly  wondering  when  the  heroes  who 
dotted  the  landscape  in  various  attitudes  of  ner- 
vousness would  disencumber  themselves  of  their 
gorgeous  trappings  and  get  to  business.  Hughie 
deposited  Joan  beside  a  mountain  of  buns  and 
a  fountain  of  tea,  and,  after  expressing  a  hope 
that  every  one  was  getting  on  all  right,  announced 
that  the  Second  Division  might  be  expected  to 
paddle  down  at  any  moment  now. 

This  statement  involved  a  chorus  of  questions 
regarding  the  technicalities  of  rowing,  which  that 
model  of  utility,  Mr.  Lunn,  had  confessed  him- 
self unable  to  answer,  and  which  had  accordingly 
been  held  over  till  Hughie's  arrival. 

Hughie's  rather  diffident  impersonation  of  Sir 
Oracle,  and  his  intricate  explanation  of  the  exact 


AN  UNDERSTUDY  57 

difference  between  bucketing  and  tubbing  (lis- 
tened to  with  respectful  interest  by  surrounding 
tea-parties),  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  a  small 
but  insistent  voice,  which  besought  him  to  turn 
the  tap  off  and  look  pretty  for  a  moment. 

There  was  a  shout  of  laughter,  and  Hughie 
turned  round,  to  find  that  one  of  those  privileged 
and  all  too  inveterate  attendants  upon  the  modern 
athlete,  a  photographer,  was  (with  the  assistance 
of  a  megaphone)  maintaining  a  reputation  for 
humorous  offensiveness,  at  his  expense,  on  the 
towpath  opposite. 

After  this  the  Second  Division  paddled  down  to 
the  start,  arrayed  in  colours  which  would  have 
relegated  such  competitors  as  King  Solomon  and 
the  lilies  of  the  field  to  that  euphemistic  but  hu- 
miliating category  indicated  by  the  formula 
"Highly  Commended."  Presently  they  returned, 
unclothed  to  an  alarming  and  increasing  extent, 
and  rowing  forty  to  the  minute.  One  crew  brought 
off  a  "gallery"  bump  right  at  Ditton  Corner,  to 
the  joy  of  the  galaxy  of  beauty  and  fashion  there- 
on assembled.  The  bumped  crew  made  the  best 
of  an  inglorious  situation  by  running  into  the 
piles  and  doubling  up  the  nose  of  the  boat,  which 
suddenly  buckled  and  assumed  a  sentry-box  atti- 
tude over  the  head  of  the  apoplectic  gentleman 
who  was  rowing  bow.  The  good  ship  herself  in- 
continently sank,  all  hands  going  down  with  her 


58    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

like  an  octette  of  Casabiancas.  Whereupon  ap- 
plause for  the  victors  was  turned  into  cries  of 
compassion  for  the  vanquished.  However,  as  all 
concerned  shook  themselves  clear  of  the  wreck 
without  difficulty  and  paddled  contentedly  to  the 
bank,  the  panic  subsided,  and  the  rest  of  the 
procession  raced  past  without  further  incident. 

As  the  last  boat,  remote,  unfriended,  melan- 
choly, slow,  accompanied  by  a  coloured  gentle- 
man ringing  a  dinner-bell  and  a  spectacled  don 
who  trotted  alongside  chanting,  "Well  rowed, 
Non- Collegiate  Students !"  creaked  dismally  past, 
Hughie  arose  and  shook  himself. 

"Our  turn  now,"  he  said.  "So  long,  every- 
body!" 

"Good  luck,  Hughie!"  said  Mrs.  Ames. 
"Your  health!" 

She  waved  her  cup  and  then  took  a  sip  of 
tea. 

There  was  a  chorus  of  good  wishes  from  the 
party,  and  one  or  two  neighbouring  enthusiasts 
raised  a  cry  of  "Benedict's!"  which  swelled  to  a 
roar  as  Hughie,  flushing  red,  elbowed  his  way  out 
of  the  paddock  and  steered  a  course  for  a  ferry- 
boat a  hundred  yards  down  the  Long  Reach. 
Popular  feeling,  which  likes  a  peg  upon  which  to 
hang  its  predilections,  was  running  high  in  favour 
of  Hughie  and  his  practically  single-handed  en- 
deavour to  humble  the  pride  of  the  All  Saints 


AN  UNDERSTUDY  59 

men,  with  their  four  Blues  and  five  years'  Head- 
ship. 

Still,  though  many  a  man's  —  especially  a 
young  man's  —  heart  would  have  swelled  excus- 
ably enough  at  such  homage,  Hughie  cared  very 
little  for  these  things.  The  notoriety  of  the  sport- 
ing paper  and  the  picture-postcard  attracted  him 
not  at  all.  He  was  doggedly  determined  to  take 
his  boat  to  the  Head  of  the  river,  not  for  the  glory 
the  achievement  would  bring  him,  but  for  the 
very  simple  and  sufficient  reason  that  he  had  made 
up  his  mind,  four  Blues  notwithstanding,  to  leave 
it  there  before  he  went  down.  A  Cambridge  man's 
pride  in  his  College  is  a  very  real  thing.  An  Ox- 
ford man  will  tell  you  that  he  is  an  Oxford  man. 
A  Cambridge  man  will  say :  "  I  was  at  such-and- 
such  a  College,  Cambridge."  Which  sentiment 
is  the  nobler  need  not  be  decided  here,  but  the 
fact  remains. 

However,  there  was  a  fly  in  the  ointment. 
Amid  the  expressions  of  goodwill  that  emanated 
from  Hughie's  own  party  one  voice  had  been  si- 
lent. The  omission  was  quite  unintentional,  for 
Miss  Mildred  Freshwater 's  head  had  been  buried 
in  a  hamper  in  search  of  spoons  at  the  moment  of 
Hughie's  departure.  But  to  poor  Hughie,  who  for 
all  his  strength  was  no  more  reasonable  where  his 
affections  were  concerned  than  other  and  weaker 
brethren,  the  circumstance  bereft  the  ovation  of 


60    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

the  one  mitigating  feature  it  might  otherwise  have 
possessed  for  him. 

As  he  strode  along  the  bank  to  where  the  ferry- 
boat was  waiting,  he  heard  a  pattering  of  feet 
behind.  A  small,  hot,  and  rather  grubby  hand 
was  thrust  into  his,  and  Miss  Gaymer  remarked  :  — 

"I'm  coming  as  far  as  that  boat  with  you, 
Hughie.  Can  I  ?" 

"All  right,  Joey,"  he  replied. 

They  had  only  a  few  yards  farther  to  go.   Miss 

Gavmer  looked  up  into  her  idol's  troubled  coun- 

"  L 

tenance. 

"What's  the  matter,  Hughie!"  she  inquired. 

"Joey,  I've  got  the  hump." 

Miss  Gaymer  squeezed  his  arm  affectionately. 

"Never  mind,  I'll  marry  you  when  I'm  grown 
up,"  she  announced  rather  breathlessly. 

Hughie  felt  a  little  awed,  as  a  man  must  always 
when  he  realises  that  a  woman,  however  old  or 
young,  loves  him.  He  smiled  down  on  the  slim 
figure  beside  him. 

"You're  a  good  sort,  Joey,"  he  said.  "One  of 
the  best!" 

Miss  Gaymer  returned  contentedly  to  her  tea, 
utterly  and  absolutely  rewarded  for  the  effort 
involved  by  the  sacrifice  of  this,  her  maidenly 
reserve. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  JOY  OF  BATTLE 

HUGHIE  stepped  out  of  the  ferry-boat  on  to  the 
towpath,  which  was  crowded  with  young  men 
hastening  to  the  places  where  the  boats  were 
moored  and  young  women  who  would  have  been 
much  better  employed  on  the  opposite  bank. 

The  punctilious  Hughie  was  looking  about  for 
a  friendly  hedge  or  other  protection  behind  which 
he  might  decorously  slip  off  the  white  flannel 
trousers  which  during  the  afternoon  had  been 
veiling  the  extreme  brevity  of  his  rowing-shorts, 
when  he  was  tapped  on  the  shoulder.  He  turned 
and  found  himself  faced  by  a  stout  clean-shaven 
man,  with  eyes  that  twinkled  cheerfully  behind 
round  spectacles.  He  looked  like  what  he  was, 
a  country  parson  of  the  best  type,  burly,  humor- 
ous, and  shrewd,  with  unmistakable  traces  of 
the  schoolmaster  about  him. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a 
rather  old-fashioned  bow,  "but  are  you  Mr. 
Marrable?" 

Hughie  admitted  the  fact. 

"Well,  I  just  want  to  say  that  I  hope  you  are 
going  Head  to-night.  You  are  to  row  stroke 
yourself,  I  hear." 


62    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"Yes." 

"Quite  right,  quite  right!  It's  a  desperate 
thing  to  change  your  crew  about  between  races, 
but  it's  our  only  chance.  You  could  never  have 
caught  them  with  the  man  you  had  last  night. 
He's  plucky,  but  he  can't  pick  a  crew  up  and  take 
them  with  him.  Have  you  been  out  in  the  new 
order?" 

"Yes.  We  had  a  short  spin  a  couple  of  hours 
ago." 

"Satisfactory?" 

"Yes,  very  fair." 

"That's  excellent.   Now  we  shall  see  a  race!" 

The  speaker  turned  and  walked  beside  Hughie 
in  the  direction  of  the  Railway  Bridge.  Hughie 
wondered  who  he  could  be. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  an  old  member  of  the  Col- 
lege, sir,"  he  said. 

"  Yes.  Have  n't  been  able  to  come  up  for  fif- 
teen years,  though." 

"In  the  crew,  perhaps?"  continued  Hughie, 
observing  his  companion's  mighty  chest  —  it  had 
slipped  down  a  little  in  fifteen  years  —  and 
shoulders. 

"Yes,"  —rather  diffidently. 

"I  thought  so.    About  what  year?" 

The  stranger  told  him. 

Hughie  grew  interested. 

"You  must  have  been  in  D'Arcy's  crew,"  he 


THE   JOY  OF  BATTLE  63 

said,  —  "the  great  D'Arcy.  My  father  knew  him 
well.  Were  you?" 

"Er  —  yes." 

"  My  word ! "  Hughie's  eyes  blazed  at  the  men- 
tion of  the  name,  which,  uttered  anywhere  along 
the  waterside  between  Putney  Bridge  and  Henley, 
still  rouses  young  oarsmen  to  respectful  dreams 
of  distant  emulation  and  middle-aged  coaches  to 
floods  of  unreliable  reminiscence.  "  He  must  have 
been  a  wonder  in  his  time.  Did  you  know  him 
well  ?  What  sort  of  chap  was  he  ?" 

"  Well  —  you  see  —  I  am  D'Arcy,"  replied  the 
stranger  apologetically. 

After  that  he  gave  Hughie  advice  about  the 
coming  race. 

"I  have  watched  the  All  Saints  crew  for  three 
nights  now,"  he  said.  "They  are  a  fine  lot,  and 
beautifully  together;  but  it  is  my  opinion  that 
they  can't  last." 

"They're  a  bit  too  sure  of  themselves,"  said 
Hughie.  "Too  many  Blues  in  the  boat." 

"  How  many  ?" 

"Four.    Seven,  Six,  Five,  and  Bow." 

"Good!  They  are  probably  labouring  under 
the  delusion  that  a  boat  with  four  Blues  in  it  is 
four  times  as  good  as  a  boat  with  one  Blue  in  it. 
Consequently  they  have  n't  trained  very  hard, 
especially  those  two  fat  men  in  the  middle  of  the 
boat.  What  about  their  Stroke  ?  " 


64    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

"Pretty  enough,  but  a  rotter  when  it  comes  to 
the  pinch." 

"Good  again!  Well,  these  fellows  have  not 
once  been  extended  during  the  races,  for  you 
gave  them  no  sort  of  a  run  last  night.  You  went 
to  bits  at  the  start  and  never  quite  recovered. 
However,  that  will  give  All  Saints  some  false 
confidence,  which  is  just  what  we  want.  Now 
what  do  you  propose  to  do  to-night?  Jump  on 
to  their  tails  at  the  start?" 

"No  good,"  said  Hughie.  "They  are  too  old 
birds  for  that  game.  Besides,  my  crew  want  very 
carefully  working  up  to  a  fast  stroke.  I  can't 
trust  Six  at  anything  above  thirty-four.  He'll 
go  on  rowing  that  all  day;  but  if  I  quicken  up 
to  thirty-six  or  seven  he  gets  flustered,  and  forty 
sends  him  clean  off  his  nut  after  about  a  minute. 
No,  we  must  just  wear  them  down." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  D'Arcy.  "  If  you  are  within 
a  length  at  the  Railway  Bridge  you  ought  just 
to  do  it." 

"The  difficulty  is,"  said  Hughie  ruefully,  "that 
the  crew  are  only  good  for  about  one  spurt.  It's 
a  good  spurt,  I  must  say,  but  if  it  fails  we  are 
done.  They  can  never  slow  down  to  a  steady 
stroke  again  —  especially  Six.  So  it  simply  has 
to  be  made  at  the  right  moment.  The  difficulty 
is  to  know  when." 

"Have  you  got  a  reliable  cox?" 


THE   JOY  OF  BATTLE  65 

"First-class." 

"Can't  he  tell  you?" 

"  Too  much  row  going  on,"  said  Hughie.  "  The 
whole  College  will  be  on  the  towpath  to-night." 

The  Reverend  Montague  D'Arcy  plunged  his 
hand  into  the  tail-pocket  of  his  clerical  frock-coat, 
and  produced  therefrom  a  large-pattern  service 
revolver. 

"Look  here,"  he  said.  "You  would  be  able  to 
hear  this  lethal  weapon  on  the  Day  of  Judgment 
itself.  Will  you  consent  to  take  your  time  from 
me?" 

"Rather!  Thank  you,  sir."  There  was  no 
doubting  the  sincerity  of  Hughie' s  gratitude. 

"Well,"  continued  the  clergyman  briskly,  "I 
shall  wait  by  the  Railway  Bridge,  on  the  Barn- 
well  side,  away  from  the  towpath.  If  you  have 
made  your  bump  before  that  you  won't  want  me. 
Well  and  good.  But  I  don't  think  you  will  have 
made  it,  and  I  don't  advise  you  to  try.  For  the 
first  half  of  the  course  those  All  Saints  men  will 
match  you  stroke  for  stroke,  and  if  you  hustle 
your  heavy  man  at  Six  he  will  probably  lose  his 
head.  As  you  pass  under  the  Railway  Bridge 
quicken  slightly  —  not  more  than  two  strokes 
a  minute,  though.  I  have  six  shots  in  this  re- 
volver. When  you  hear  two  of  them,  that  will 
mean  that  you  are  getting  within  jumping  dis- 
tance and  must  be  ready  for  the  spurt.  When  you 


66    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

hear  the  remaining  four  in  quick  succession  you 
must  simply  swing  out  and  put  the  very  last  ounce 
of  your  blood  and  bones  and  bodies  and  souls 
into  it.  And  if  you  catch  'em,"  concluded  the 
reverend  gentleman,  "by  gad!  I'll  dance  the 
Cachuca  on  the  bank!" 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  spot  where 
their  racing-shell  —  sixty-two  feet  of  flimsy  cedar 
wood  —  was  lying  waiting  for  them.  The  rest  of 
the  crew,  already  assembled,  were  standing  about 
in  the  attitudes  of  profound  dejection  or  forced 
hilarity  which  appear  to  be  the  only  alternatives 
of  deportment  open  to  men  who  are  suffering 
from  what  is  expressively  termed  "the  needle." 
Some  were  whistling,  others  were  yawning,  and 
all  were  wondering  why  on  earth  men  took  up 
rowing  as  a  pastime. 

Hughie  gathered  his  Argonauts  into  a  knot, 
and  at  his  request  the  Reverend  Montague  D'Arcy 
outlined  to  them  the  plan  of  campaign.  Then 
the  crew  embarked,  and  the  stout  clergyman 
assisted  the  grizzled  College  boatman  —  the  only 
person  present  whose  nerves  appeared  unaffected 
by  the  prevailing  tension  —  to  push  their  craft 
clear  of  the  bank,  and  set  them  going  on  a  half- 
minute  dash  as  a  preliminary  to  their  long  paddle 
down  the  course  to  the  starting  point  of  the  race. 

In  accordance  with  a  picturesque  but  peculiar 
custom  they  wore  in  their  straw  hats  bunches  of 


THE   JOY  OF  BATTLE  67 

marigolds  and  corn-flowers  —  the  College  colours 
—  as  an  intimation  that  they  had  achieved 
bumps  during  the  preceding  nights;  and  so  be- 
decked they  paddled  majestically  down  the  Long 
Reach,  feeling  extremely  valorous  and  looking 
slightly  ridiculous,  to  challenge  a  comparison  (in 
which  they  were  hopelessly  outclassed  from  the 
start)  with  the  headgear  of  the  assembled  fair  in 
Ditton  Paddock. 

The  method  of  sending  off  a  bumping  race  is 
the  refinement  of  cruelty. 

As  each  boat  reaches  its  starting-post  the  crews 
disembark  and  stand  dismally  about,  listening  to 
the  last  exhortations  of  coaches  or  nervously  eye- 
ing the  crew  behind  them.  Presently  an  objec- 
tionably loud  piece  of  artillery,  situated  half-way 
down  the  long  line  of  boats,  goes  off  with  a  roar. 
This  is  called  "first  gun,"  and  means  chiefly  that 
there  will  be  another  in  three  minutes.  The  crew 
mournfully  denude  themselves  of  a  few  more 
articles  of  their  already  scanty  wardrobe,  which 
they  pile  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  perspiring 
menial  whose  duty  it  is  to  convey  the  same  to 
the  finishing-post,  and  crawl  one  by  one  into 
their  places  in  the  boat.  Finally,  the  coxswain 
coils  himself  into  his  seat  and  takes  both  rudder- 
lines  in  his  left  hand,  leaving  the  right  free  to 
grasp  the  end  of  the  boat's  last  link  with  terra 
firma,  her  starting-chain.  Then  the  second  gun 


68    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

goes,  and  the  crew  shudder  and  know  that  in 
sixty  seconds  precisely  they  must  start. 

The  ritual  observed  during  the  final  minute  is 
complicated  in  the  extreme,  and  varies  directly 
with  the  nervous  system  of  the  coach,  who  dances 
upon  the  bank  with  a  stop-watch  in  his  hand, 
to  time  the  ministrations  of  the  College  boat- 
man, who  stands  by  with  a  long  boat-hook  ready 
to  prod  the  vessel  into  midstream. 

"  Fifteen  seconds  gone,"  says  the  coach.  "  Push 
her  out,  Ben." 

Ben  complies,  with  a  maddening  but  wise  de- 
liberation. If  the  boat  is  pushed  out  too  promptly 
the  starting-chain  will  grow  taut  and  tug  the  stern 
of  the  boat  inwards  towards  the  bank,  just  when 
her  nose  should  be  pointing  straight  upstream. 
But  this  elementary  truth  does  not  occur  to  the 
frenzied  octette  in  the  boat.  The  gun  will  go,  and 
bow-side  will  find  their  oar-blades  still  resting  on 
the  towpath.  They  know  it. 

"  Thirty  seconds  gone,"  says  the  coach.  "  Pad- 
dle on  gently,  Bow  and  Two." 

His  object  is  to  get  the  full  advantage  of  the 
length  of  the  chain,  but  Bow  and  Two  know 
better.  They  are  convinced  that  he  merely  de- 
sires that  they  shall  be  caught  at  a  disadvantage 
when  the  gun  fires.  However,  they  paddle  on  as 
requested,  with  a  palsied  stealthiness  that  sug- 
gests musical  chairs. 


THE   JOY  OF  BATTLE  69 

"Fifteen  seconds  left,"  says  the  coach.  "Are 
you  straight,  Cox  ?  Ten  more  sec  — " 

Ah !  As  usual  the  chain  has  drawn  tight,  and 
the  stern  of  the  boat  is  being  dragged  inwards 
again. 

"Paddle  on,  Two!"  yells  the  coxswain. 

Two  gives  a  couple  of  frenzied  digs ;  the  Der- 
vish with  the  watch,  accompanied  by  a  ragged 
and  inaccurate  chorus  all  down  the  bank,  chants 
"Five,  four,  three,  two  —  ";  there  is  a  terrific 
roar  from  the  gun ;  the  coxswain  drops  the  chain ; 
the  boatman  slips  the  point  of  his  boat-hook 
(which,  between  ourselves,  has  been  doing  the 
lion's  share  in  keeping  the  ship's  head  straight) 
from  Five's  rigger;  and  they  are  off. 

The  Benedictine  crew  got  under  way  very  un- 
ostentatiously. Their  coach  was  actually  rowing 
in  the  All  Saints  boat,  —  and  it  would  be  difficult 
to  select  a  more  glowing  testimonial  to  the  ster- 
ling sportsmanship  of  English  rowing,  —  so  the 
starting  operations  were  wisely  left  to  the  Col- 
lege boatman,  who  had  performed  the  office  for 
something  like  half  a  century.  The  flight  of  time 
was  recorded  by  Hughie  himself,  from  the  watch 
which  hung  on  his  stretcher  beside  his  right  foot. 
The  experienced  Mr.  Dishart- Watson  kept  those 
too-often  fatally  intimate  acquaintances,  the  rud- 
der-lines and  starting-chain,  tactfully  apart,  and 
the  St.  Benedict's  boat  got  off  the  mark  with  a 


70    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

start  that  brought  her  within  a  length  of  All 
Saints  during  the  first  half-minute. 

After  that  their  opponents  drew  away.  As 
D'Arcy  had  said,  they  were  a  seasoned  crew,  and 
nothing  short  of  sheer  superiority  would  wear 
them  down.  The  two  boats  swung  round  Grassy 
Corner  and  entered  the  Plough  Reach  about  their 
distance  apart.  All  Saints  were  rowing  the  faster 
stroke. 

Hughie,  who  was  keeping  to  a  steady  thirty- 
two,  felt  with  satisfaction  that  the  men  behind 
him  were  well  together.  Number  Seven,  small 
but  plucky,  was  setting  bow-side  a  beautiful  ex- 
ample in  steady  swing  and  smart  finish.  Six  — 
Mr.  Puffin  —  was  rowing  a  great  blade.  To  look 
at  him  now,  you  would  ask  why  he  had  not  been 
included  in  the  University  Crew.  If  you  saw  him 
trying  to  row  forty  to  the  minute,  you  would 
marvel  that  he  should  be  included  in  any  crew 
at  all. 

Five  was  not  looking  happy.  He  was  lying 
back  too  far  and  tugging  at  the  finish.  To  him 
the  boat  seemed  heavier  than  usual,  for  he  was 
just  beginning  to  realise  the  difference  between 
seconding  the  efforts  of  Hughie  Marrable  and 
those  of  Mr.  Buncombe.  Still,  he  was  plugging 
gamely.  Four,  a  painstaking  person,  was  encour- 
aging himself  in  a  fashion  entirely  his  own. 
After  every  stroke,  as  he  sat  up  and  swung  for- 


THE   JOY  OF  BATTLE  71 

ward,  he  gasped  out  some  little  sotto  voce  remark 
to  himself,  such  as,  "  Oh,  well  rowed,  Four !  — 
Stick  to  it,  Four !  —  Use  your  legs,  old  man !  — 
That's  better!— That's  a  beauty!  —  Oh,  well 
rowed,  Four!"  And  so  on.  Where  he  got  the 
necessary  breath  for  these  exercises  nobody  knew ; 
but  some  folk  possess  these  little  peculiarities, 
and  row  none  the  worse  for  them.  Bow  was  an- 
other instance.  He  was  a  chirpy  but  eccentric  in- 
dividual, and  used  to  sing  to  himself  some  little 
ditty  of  the  moment  —  or  possibly  a  hymn  —  all 
through  a  race,  beginning  with  the  first  stroke 
and  ending  exactly,  if  possible,  with  the  last. 
He  had  been  known,  when  stroking  a  boat,  to 
quicken  up  to  a  perfectly  incredible  rate  simply 
because  he  feared  that  the  song  would  end  before 
he  completed  the  course,  a  contingency  which  he 
regarded  as  unlucky  in  the  extreme.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  would  become  quite  depressed  if 
he  had  to  stop  in  the  middle  of  a  verse,  and  he 
was  quite  capable  of  rowing  rallentando  if  he  de- 
sired to  synchronise  his  two  conclusions. 

But  few  people  have  the  time  or  inclination  for 
these  diversions  while  oscillating  upon  a  sixteen- 
inch  slide,  and  the  rest  of  the  crew  were  swing- 
ing at  and  plugging  in  grim  silence. 

The  two  boats  swept  into  the  roaring  medley 
of  Ditton  Corner.  They  flashed  past  the  row  of 
piles  and  tethered  punts  amid  a  hurricane  of 


72    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

shouts  and  waving  handkerchiefs.  Hughie,  wrong- 
fully exercising  his  privilege  as  Stroke,  allowed  his 
eyes  to  slide  to  the  right  for  a  moment.  He  had 
a  fleeting  glimpse  of  the  crimson  and  excited 
countenance  of  Miss  Gaymer,  as  some  man  held 
her  aloft  in  the  crowd.  Then  the  boat  gave  a 
slight  lurch,  and  Joey  was  swallowed  up  again. 
Hughie  felt  guiltily  responsible  for  the  lurch, 
and  recalling  his  gaze  into  the  proper  channel 
—  straight  over  the  coxswain's  right  shoulder  — 
swung  out  again  long  and  steadily. 

"Are  we  straight  yet?"  he  gasped  to  Dishy. 

"Yes— just." 

"Tell  'em  to  reach  out  a  bit." 

Mr.  Watson  complied,  in  tones  that  rose  high 
above  the  tumult  on  the  bank  and  penetrated 
even  into  the  harmonious  soul  of  Bow,  who  was 
grappling  with  a  difficult  cadenza  at  the  moment. 

"Six  good  ones!"  said  Hughie,  next  time  his 
face  swung  up  towards  the  coxswain's. 

"  Now,  you  men,  six  good  ones !"  echoed  Dishy. 
"One!  Two!  Five,  you  're  late!  Three!  Four! 
Five  1  Bow,  get  hold  of  it !  Six  I  Oh,  well  rowed ! " 

There  was  a  delighted  roar  from  the  bank. 
The  Benedictine  crew  were  together  again  after 
the  unsteadiness  round  Ditton. 

"How  far?"  signalled  Hughie's  lips. 

"Length  —  and  —  a  —  half,"  replied  Cox. 
"Less,"  he  added,  peering  ahead. 


THE   JOY  OF  BATTLE  73 

They  were  half-way  up  the  Long  Reach  now. 
In  another  minute  or  two  they  would  be  at  the 
Railway  Bridge,  beyond  which  hard-pressed  boats 
are  popularly  supposed  to  be  safe. 

"Tell 'em — going — quicken," gurgled  Hughie, 
"if  can." 

Cox  nodded,  rather  doubtfully,  and  Hughie 
ground  his  teeth.  If  only  this  accursed  noise  on 
the  bank  would  cease,  even  for  five  seconds, 
Dishy  would  get  a  chance  to  make  the  crew  hear. 
As  it  was,  the  ever- increasing  crowd,  rolling  up 
fresh  adherents  like  a  snowball,  made  that  feat 
almost  an  impossibility. 

But  the  coxswain  was  a  man  of  experience  and 
resource.  Just  as  the  boat  passed  under  the  Rail- 
way Bridge  itself  there  was  a  momentary  silence, 
for  the  crew  were  shut  off  from  their  supporters 
by  some  intervening  balks  of  timber.  Dishy 
seized  the  opportunity. 

"  Be  ready  to  quicken,"  he  yelled.  "  Now !  Oh, 
well  done!" 

The  crew  had  heard  him,  and  what  was  more, 
they  had  obeyed  him.  Stroke  in  the  All  Saints 
boat  suddenly  realised  that  the  oncoming  foe  had 
quickened  to  thirty-five  or  six,  and  that  the  inter- 
val between  the  two  boats  had  shrunk  to  some- 
thing under  a  length.  He  spurted  in  his  turn, 
and  his  men  spurted  with  him,  but  their  length 
of  stroke  grew  proportionately  shorter,  and  the 


74    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

pace  of  the  boat  did  not  increase.  St.  Benedict's 
were  holding  their  advantage. 

"Half  a  length,"  said  Dishy,  in  response  to 
an  agonised  interrogation  from  Hughie's  right 
eyebrow. 

Suddenly  above  the  tumult  there  rang  out  two 
reverberating  revolver-shots.  A  stout  clergyman, 
whooping  like  a  Choctaw,  was  tearing  along  the 
right  bank  of  the  river,  which  was  practically 
clear  of  spectators,  with  his  weapon  smoking  in 
his  hand.  Dishy's  voice  rose  to  a  scream. 

"Look  out  —  be  ready!   Only  six  feet!" 

And  now  the  musical  gentleman  who  was 
rowing  bow  felt  the  boat  lift  unsteadily  under 
him.  A  wave  rolled  across  the  canvas  decking 
behind  him,  and  he  felt  a  splash  of  water  on  his 
back. 

"  Washing  us  off !"  was  his  comment.  "  Glory, 
glory!  Another  verse  '11  do  it.  Now  then,  all 
together,  — 

"What  though  the  spicy  breezes 
Blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  — " 

Bang!  bang!  bang!  bang! 

The  great  service  revolver  rang  out.  The  nose 
of  the  Benedictine  boat,  half  submerged  in  a 
boiling  flood,  suddenly  sprang  to  within  three 
feet  of  the  All  Saints  rudder. 

"Now,  you  men!"  Mr.  Dishart- Watson's 
wizened  and  saturnine  countenance  shrank  sud- 


THE   JOY   OF  BATTLE  75 

denly  and  alarmingly  to  a  mere  rim  surrounding 
his  mouth.  "  Just  ten  more !  One  —  two  — " 

Like  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  "Of  all  his  body  he 
made  a  tongue."  He  counted  the  strokes  in  tones 
that  overtopped  all  the  roars  of  encouragement 
and  apprehension  arising  from  the  now  hope- 
lessly mixed-up  mob  of  Benedictine  and  All  Saints 
men  that  raged  alongside.  Hughie  Marrable 
quickened  and  quickened,  and  his  crew  responded 
sturdily.  Faster  and  faster  grew  the  stroke,  and 
more  and  more  pertinaciously  did  the  nose  of  the 
Benedictine  boat  plough  its  way  through  the  tur- 
bid waves  emitted  by  the  twitching  rudder  in 
front.  Never  had  they  travelled  like  this.  Six 
was  rowing  like  a  man  possessed.  Four  had  ceased 
to  encourage  himself,  and  was  plugging  auto- 
matically with  his  chest  open  and  his  eyes  shut. 
Bow  may  or  may  not  have  been  singing :  he  was 
certainly  rowing.  There  was  a  world  of  rolling 
and  splashing,  for  the  All  Saints  coxswain  was 
manipulating  his  rudder  very  skilfully,  and  ever 
and  again  the  aggressive  nose  of  the  Benedictine 
boat  was  sent  staggering  back  by  a  rolling  buffet- 
ing wave.  But  there  was  no  stopping  the  Bene- 
dictines. 

Suddenly  Dishy  gave  vent  to  a  final  cataclys- 
mic bellow. 

"You're  overlapping!" 

They  were  almost  at  Charon's  Grind.  The  cox- 


76    STUFF  THAT  WILL  NOT  ENDURE 

swain's  lank  body  stiffened  in  its  little  seat,  and 
Hughie  saw  him  lean  hard  over  and  haul  on  to 
the  right-hand  rudder- line. 

"  Last  three  strokes !  Now,  you  devils !  Plug! 
plug!  pi  —  Aa  —  a  —  ee  —  ooh  —  ee  —  easy  all ! 
Oh,  well  rowed,  well  rowed,  well  rowed!" 

There  was  a  lurch  and  a  bump. 

"  Done  it !  — '  Bows  down  to  wood  and  stone?  ' 
gasped  Bow. 

The  eight  men  let  go  their  oars  and  tumbled 
forward  on  to  their  stretchers,  and  listened,  with 
their  heads  and  hearts  bursting,  to  the  din  that 
raged  on  the  bank. 

It  was  a  fine  confused  moment. 

In  the  boat  itself  Cox  was  vainly  endeavouring 
to  shake  hands  with  Stroke,  who  lay  doubled  up 
over  his  oar,  with  his  head  right  down  on  the 
bottom  of  the  boat,  oblivious  to  everything  save 
the  blessed  fact  that  he  need  not  row  any  more. 
Consciousness  that  he  had  taken  his  crew  to  the 
Head  of  the  River  was  yet  to  come.  At  the  other 
end  Bow,  with  his  head  clasped  between  his  knees, 
was  croaking  half-hysterically  to  himself,  "Two 
bars  too  soon,  Hughie !  Oh,  my  aunt,  we've  gone 
Head!  Two  bars  too  soon!" 

On  the  towpath  every  one  was  shouting  and 
shaking  hands  with  indiscriminate  bonhomie,  — 
this  was  one  of  those  occasions  upon  which  even 
the  ranks  of  Tuscany  could  scarce  forbear  to 


THE   JOY  OF  BATTLE  77 

cheer,  —  and  everybody,  with  one  exception, 
seemed  to  be  ringing  a  bell  or  blowing  a  trumpet. 
The  exception  was  supplied  by  a  trio  of  young 
gentlemen,  two  of  whom  held  an  enormous 
Chinese  gong  suspended  between  them,  while  a 
third  smote  the  same  unceasingly  with  a  mallet, 
and  cried  aloud  the  name  of  Marrable.  It  must 
be  recorded  here,  to  his  honour,  that  the  smiter 
bore  upon  his  forehead  an  enormous  and  highly 
coloured  bruise,  suggestive  of  sudden  contact 
with,  say,  a  bedroom-door. 

On  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  a  stout, 
middle-aged,  and  apparently  demented  Clerk  in 
Holy  Orders  was  dancing  the  Cachuca. 


BOOK  TWO 

FORTITER  IN  RE 


CHAPTER   VI 

KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA  MODE 

IF  all  good  Americans  go  to  Paris  when  they 
die,  it  may  safely  be  predicted  that  all  the  bad 
ones  will  be  booked  through  to  Coney  Island. 

So  much  may  be  inferred  from  the  regularity 
and  zeal  with  which  the  Toughs,  Hoboes,  Bowery 
Boys,  and  other  fearful  wildfowl  of  the  New  York 
proletariat,  accompanied  by  the  corresponding 
females  of  the  species,  betake  themselves  every 
Sabbath  by  trolley-car  or  steamer  to  this  haunt 
of  ancient  peace  (which,  by  the  way,  is  not  to  all 
appearances  an  island  and  harbours  no  conies) . 

Take  Margate  and  Douglas  and  Blackpool,  and 
pile  them  into  an  untidy  heap ;  throw  in  a  dozen 
Fun-Cities  from  Olympia  and  half  a  score  of 
World's  Fairs  from  the  Agricultural  Hall ;  add 
some  of  the  less  reputable  features  of  Earl's  Court 
and  Neuilly  Fair;  include  a  race-course  of  the 
baser  sort;  case  the  whole  in  wood,  and  people 
it  with  sallow  gentlemen  in  striped  jerseys  arid 
ladies  answering  exclusively  to  such  names  as 
Hattie,  Sadie,  and  Mamie,  reared  up  apparently 
upon  an  exclusive  diet  of  peanuts  and  clam- 
chowder;  keep  the  whole  multitude  duly  con- 


82  FORTITER  IN  RE 

trolled  and  disciplined  by  a  police  force  which,  if 
appearances  go  for  anything,  has  been  recruited 
entirely  from  the  criminal  classes;  and  you  will 
be  able  faintly  to  realise  what  Coney  Island  can 
do  when  it  tries  on  a  fine  Sunday  in  summer. 

So  thought  Hughie  Marrable.  He  had  been 
wandering  round  the  world  for  nine  years  now; 
but  not  even  a  previous  acquaintance  with  the 
Devil  Dancers  of  Ceylon,  the  unhallowed  revels 
of  Port  Said,  or  the  refinements  of  a  Central 
African  Witch- Hunt  (with  full  tom-tom  accom- 
paniment), had  quite  prepared  him  for  this. 
Still,  it  was  part  and  parcel  of  Life,  and  Life  was 
what  he  had  left  England  to  see. 

He  had  arrived  in  New  York  from  San  Fran- 
cisco two  days  ago.  But  let  it  not  be  imag- 
ined that  he  had  been  conveyed  thither  by  any 
Grand-Trunk-Ocean-to-Ocean-Limited,  or  other 
refinement  of  an  effete  modernity.  His  transcon- 
tinental journey  had  occupied  just  three  years. 
Since  the  day  on  which  he  steamed  through  the 
Golden  Gate  on  a  tramp-freighter  from  Yoko- 
hama he  had  been  working  his  way  eastward  by 
easy  stages,  acquiring  experience  (as  Jimmy  Mar- 
rable had  directed)  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
other  half  of  the  world  lives.  Incidentally  he  had 
mixed  cocktails  behind  a  Nevada  bar ;  learned  to 
fire  a  revolver  without  taking  it  out  of  his  pocket; 
accompanied  a  freight  train  over  the  Rockies  in 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A   LA  MODE    83 

the  capacity  of  assistant  brakeman  —  his  duties 
being  chiefly  confined  to  standing  by  with  a 
coupling-pin,  to  discourage  the  enterprise  of  those 
gentlemen  of  the  road  who  proposed  to  travel 
without  tickets;  and  once,  in  a  Southern  State, 
he  had  been  privileged  to  be  present  at  that  en- 
nobling spectacle  to  which  the  brightest  nation 
on  earth  occasionally  treats  the  representatives 
of  an  older  civilisation — the  lynching  of  a  negro. 

In  a  few  days  Hughie  would  sail  for  England, 
on  board  the  mighty  Apulia.  It  was  not  often 
that  he  travelled  in  such  ostentatious  luxury :  the 
primitive  man  in  him  leaned  towards  something 
damp  and  precarious  on  board  a  sailing-ship  or  a 
collier ;  but  he  happened  to  know  that  the  Apulia 
intended  going  for  the  ocean  record  this  trip ;  and 
since  the  third  engineer  happened  to  be  a  friend 
of  his,  Hughie  had  decided  that  four-and-a-half 
days  and  nights  down  among  the  humming  tur- 
bines and  the  spirits  that  controlled  them  would 
be  cheap  at  the  price  of  an  expensively  uphol- 
stered state-room  many  decks  above,  in  which 
he  would  leave  his  baggage  and  occasionally  sleep. 

For  all  that  he  had  cast  a  regretful  eye  only 
that  very  morning  on  a  battered  little  tramp- 
steamer  which  was  loading  up  with  cargo  along- 
side a  wharf  at  Hoboken  —  due  to  sail  for  Europe, 
so  a  stevedore  told  him,  in  about  two  days'  time. 

To-morrow  he  was  to  be  taken  yachting  in 


84  FORTITER  IN  RE 

New  York  harbour  by  an  old  P.  and  O.  acquaint- 
ance, whom  he  had  faithfully  "looked  up,"  in 
accordance  with  a  two-year-old  promise,  at  his 
city  office  that  morning.  In  the  evening,  at  the 
invitation  of  an  American  actor  to  whom  he  had 
once  been  of  service  in  Calcutta,  he  was  to  dine 
at  the  Lambs'  Club,  —  the  New  York  equivalent 
of  the  Garrick  and  Green  Room,  with  a  dash  of 
the  Eccentric  thrown  in,  —  and  the  next  day  he 
was  to  pay  a  flying  visit  to  Atlantic  City. 

Meanwhile  he  was  putting  in  a  few  off-hours 
at  Coney  Island.  He  had  watched  the  islanders 
bathing,  had  witnessed  a  display  of  highly  —  not 
to  say  epileptically  —  Animated  Pictures,  had 
spent  half-an-hour  in  an  open  cafe-chantant,  where 
a  bevy  of  tired-looking  girls  in  short  skirts  pranced 
about  with  mechanical  abandon  at  the  back  of  the 
small  stage,  shouting  the  chorus  of  a  ditty  which 
a  wheezy  lady  (who  looked  like  the  mother  of  all 
chorus-girls)  was  singing  at  the  front;  and  had 
declined  a  pressing  invitation  from  the  keeper  of 
an  Anatomical  Museum  to  step  inside  and  "  have 
a  dollar's  worth  for  a  dime." 

Finally  he  drifted  into  a  small  theatre,  where  a 
melodrama  of  distinctly  British  flavour  (seasoned 
to  the  Coney  Island  palate  by  a  few  distinctly 
local  interpolations)  was  unfolding  itself  to  a 
closely  packed  and  hard-breathing  audience. 

To  judge  from  the  state  of  the  atmosphere  the 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA  MODE    85 

entertainment  had  been  in  progress  for  some  time. 
As  Hughie  took  his  seat  the  curtain  rose  on  a 
moonlit  military  scene.  Figures  wrapped  in  great- 
coats sat  round  a  camp-fire  on  the  audience's 
right  hand,  the  only  plainly  recognisable  character 
being  the  Heroine,  who,  attired  as  a  hospital  nurse 
and  positively  starred  with  red  crosses,  was  sew- 
ing aloofly  upon  an  erection  which  looked  like  a 
sarcophagus,  but  was  marked  in  plain  figures 
"  Ambulence."  A  sentry,  who  from  his  gait 
Hughie  took  (rightly)  to  be  the  Comic  Man,  was 
pacing  up  and  down  at  the  back. 

Presently  the  guard  was  changed,  with  much 
saluting  of  a  pattern  unknown  at  any  War  Office, 
and  the  Comic  Man,  released  from  duty,  was 
called  upon  to  sing  "  that  dear  ole  song  you  useter 
sing  at  'ome."  The  cold  light  of  the  moon  having 
been  temporarily  replaced  by  broad  daylight  in 
order  to  give  the  singer's  facial  expression  full 
play,  he  obliged;  though  why  any  one  who  had 
heard  him  sing  the  song  before  should  have 
asked  him  to  sing  it  again  passed  Hughie's  com- 
prehension. Next  a  drummer-boy  (female)  was 
called  upon  by  the  company,  and  after  a  great 
exhibition  of  reluctance,  —  fully  justified  by  her 
subsequent  performance,  —  gave  vent  to  a  pa- 
triotic ditty,  in  which  the  only  distinguishable 
rhymes  were  "Black  Watch"  and  "Scotch." 

These  revels  brought  the  Hero  on  to  the  stage. 


86  FORT1TER  IN  RE 

He  was  attired  in  clerical  dress  and  a  cavalry 
helmet;  and,  sitting  down  beside  the  Heroine 
upon  the  sarcophagus,  he  proceeded,  oblivious 
of  the  presence  of  the  entire  guard,  who  were 
huddled  round  the  fire  not  more  than  five  feet 
away,  to  make  her  a  proposal  of  marriage ;  quot- 
ing Scripture  to  some  purpose,  and  extorting  a 
demure  affirmative  from  the  lady  just  before  the 
Comic  Man,  who  had  obviously  been  lamenting 
that  the  success  of  the  piece  should  be  imperilled 
by  such  stuff  as  this,  upset  the  soup-kettle,  and  so 
gave  a  fresh  turn  to  the  proceedings. 

All  this  time  Hughie  had  been  conscious  of  an 
increasing  feeling  of  curiosity  as  to  the  identity 
of  the  only  member  of  the  glee-party  round  the 
fire  who  so  far  had  made  no  contribution  to  the 
entertainment.  He  darkly  suspected  him  of  being 
the  Villain,  though  what  the  Villain  should  be 
doing  unrecognised  at  such  a  period  of  the  play  — 
it  was  about  the  third  act  —  was  hard  to  under- 
stand. However,  the  mystery  was  now  cleared 
up  by  a  French  vivandiere  —  by  this  time  it  was 
plain  that  the  scene  was  laid  in  the  Crimea  —  who 
called  upon  the  mysterious  one,  in  the  accents 
of  Stratford-atte-Bowe,  for  a  song  and  dance. 
No  reply  being  forthcoming,  the  entire  company 
(precipitately,  but  quite  correctly,  as  it  happened) 
rose  up  and  denounced  the  stranger  as  a  Russian 
and  a  spy.  They  had  only  themselves  to  blame 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA   MODE    87 

for  his  presence,  for  apparently  he  had  strolled  up 
and  joined  the  party  quite  promiscuously;  and 
no  one  had  thought,  so  far,  of  asking  him  who  he 
was  or  even  of  addressing  him. 

The  audience  now  sat  up  expectantly.  But 
instead  of  taking  the  spy  prisoner  and  shooting 
him  on  sight,  the  guard  hurried  off  R.TJ.E.  — 
possibly  to  bring  up  their  big  guns  or  find  a  po- 
liceman. These  deplorable  tactics  did  not  meet 
with  the  reward  they  deserved,  for  the  Villain, 
instead  of  bolting  off  L.  as  fast  as  he  could,  lin- 
gered upon  the  stage  to  tell  the  audience  that  he 
had  come  back  to  have  one  more  go  at  the  Hero. 
(Goodness  knows  how  many  he  had  had !)  The 
Hero  obligingly  appeared  at  that  moment,  and 
a  section  (whose  numbers  appeared  to  increase  as 
the  play  proceeded)  of  the  audience  shouted  to 
the  Villain  to  cut  in  and  do  it  now.  But  portent- 
ous trampings  "off"  announced  the  return  of  the 
glee-party,  and  the  Villain,  finding  that  he  could 
not  execute  his  perfectly  justifiable  design  with- 
out considerable  danger  to  his  own  person,  and 
was  in  fact  in  a  particularly  tight  place  himself, 
suddenly  appealed  (with  considerable  "nerve," 
it  seemed  to  Hughie)  to  the  Hero,  as  a  Cleric,  to 
save  him.  The  Hero  (who  was  evidently  a  fool 
as  well  as  a  bore)  immediately  complied.  "You 
must  take  upon  you  my  identity,"  he  remarked. 
In  a  twinkling  they  had  exchanged  great-coats, 


88  FORTITER  IN  RE 

and  the  Villain  was  now  by  all  the  laws  of  Melo- 
drama completely  disguised  as  the  Hero.  He 
dashed  off  L.,  just  as  a  perfect  avalanche  of 
people,  who  had  been  faithfully  and  increasingly 
marking  time  in  the  wings,  poured  on  to  the  stage 
R.,  and  endeavoured  almost  to  poke  their  rifles 
into  the  Hero's  breast.  But  just  as  a  nervous 
female  in  the  audience,  apprehensive  about  the 
sudden  discharge  of  firearms,  convulsively  gripped 
Hughie's  left  elbow,  the  Heroine  dashed  on  from 
nowhere,  and  taking  her  stand  before  the  Hero 
—  apparently  she  was  the  only  person  upon  the 
stage  who  recognised  him  —  uttered  these  thrill- 
ing but  mysterious  words :  "  You  kennot  far  erpon 
ther  Red  Kerawss!" 

Curtain,  amid  thunders  of  applause. 

After  a  commendably  short  interval  the  cur- 
tain rose  upon  the  next  act.  The  Hero  was  now 
discovered  asleep  (under  what  must  have  struck 
any  thoughtful  member  of  the  audience  as  highly 
compromising  circumstances  for  a  clergyman)  in 
the  cottage  of  a  stout  lady  in  a  very  short  skirt 
and  fur-topped  boots ;  whom,  from  the  fact  that 
her  opening  soliloquy  commenced  with  the  words, 
"Har,  veil !"  the  audience  rightly  adjudged  to  be 
a  Russian.  This  lady,  it  was  soon  plain,  was 
consumed  by  a  secret  passion,  for  the  Hero.  In 
fact  she  proclaimed  it  in  such  strident  tones  that 
it  was  surprising  that  its  object  did  not  wake  up. 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA   MODE    89 

This  scene  soon  resolved  itself  into  a  series  of 
determined  efforts  on  the  part  of  the  Villain  to 
terminate  the  existence  of  the  Hero  —  an  enter- 
prise in  which  he  by  this  time  commanded  the 
whole-hearted  support  of  the  greater  part  of  the 
audience.  His  first  attempt  was  foiled  by  the 
Comic  Man,  who  entered  singing  "  Keep  the  baby 
warm,  Mother!"  just  as  he  had  crawled  within 
striking  distance  of  the  unwakeable  Hero.  Mut- 
tering curses,  the  unfortunate  man  announced  his 
intention  of  retiring  "to  the  woods,"  pending  an- 
other opportunity.  But  he  had  no  luck.  Just  as 
the  Comic  Man  performed  a  humorous  exit 
through  the  window,  the  stout  lady  —  most  of 
the  other  characters,  by  the  way,  addressed  her 
as  "Tinker":  possibly  her  name  was  Katinka 
—  came  in  through  the  door,  filled  with  the  fore- 
bodings of  what  she  called  "loove."  Her  subse- 
quent course  of  action  could  certainly  only  have 
been  condoned  on  the  plea  of  emotional  insan- 
ity. She  unceremoniously  bundled  the  Hero  out 
of  bed  —  fortunately  he  had  gone  there  in  his 
boots  —  and  sent  him  off  on  a  transparent  wild- 
goose  chase  to  the  "trenches."  Then  she  got  into 
bed  herself,  and  when  the  Villain  came  crawling 
back  from  "the  woods,"  brandishing  his  knife  in 
the  limelight,  the  audience  were  treated  to  a  sort 
of  up-to-date  rendering  of  "Little  Red  Riding 
Hood,"  the  part  of  the  Wolf  being  sustained  by 


90  FORTITER  IN  RE 

Katinka,  and  that  of  Red  Riding  Hood  by  the 
now  hopelessly  demoralised  Villain,  who  was  once 
more  chased  back  to  his  arboreal  lurking-place 
with  the  muzzle  of  a  revolver  in  the  small  of  his 
back. 

In  the  next  and  final  act  the  Villain  made  a 
supreme  effort.  He  began  by  slaying  the  drum- 
mer-boy, —  presumably  to  keep  his  hand  in,  — 
but  on  going  through  his  victim's  pockets  in 
search  of  certain  "despatches"  which  that  youth- 
ful hero  had  undertaken  to  carry  through  the 
Russian  lines,  —  where  to,  heaven  knows !  — 
the  unfortunate  man  discovered  a  locket,  which 
instantly  revealed  to  him  the  surprising,  but  none 
the  less  distressing,  intelligence  that  he  had  slain 
his  own  son.  His  anguish  was  pitiful  to  behold, 
and  when  the  Hero  came  on  and  began  to  rub 
it  in  by  further  excerpts  from  the  Scriptures,  the 
audience  to  a  man  decided  that  if  the  Villain 
brought  it  off  this  time  no  jury  would  convict, 
but  that  he  would  be  bound  over  at  the  most. 
He  certainly  set  about  the  business  with  more 
gumption  than  usual.  Waiting  until  the  Hero 
was  well  launched  into  "Secondly,"  with  the 
limelight  full  in  his  eyes,  he  once  more  produced 
the  glittering  knife.  Suddenly  the  ubiquitous 
Katinka  dashed  on,  and  in  the  most  unsports- 
manlike manner  shot  the  Villain  in  the  small  of 
the  back,  at  a  range  of  about  eighteen  inches.  He 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A   LA  MODE    91 

dropped  dead  across  the  body  of  his  son  (which 
must  have  hurt  that  infant  prodigy  very  much). 
All  the  other  characters  sidled  on  from  the  wings 
and  formed  a  grand  concluding  tableau,  the  Hero, 
egregious  to  the  last  and  entwined  in  a  stained- 
glass  attitude  with  the  Hospital  Nurse,  pronoun- 
cing a  sort  of  benediction  as  the  curtain  fell. 

"  Does  n't  this  remind  you  of  the  Drama  as  it 
used  to  be  dished  up  to  the  undergraduates  in 
the  old  Barn  at  Cambridge  ?"  remarked  a  voice. 

Hughie  turned  to  the  speaker.  He  found  beside 
him  a  man  of  about  thirty,  with  a  fair  moustache, 
which  half  hid  a  weak  but  amiable  mouth  and  a 
receding  chin.  He  was  dressed  in  the  thick  blue 
shore-going  garments  of  the  seaman,  but  he 
looked  too  slight  for  an  A.B.  and  too  clean  for  a 
fireman. 

"  Deck-hand,"  said  Hughie  to  himself.  "  Gentle- 
man once  —  no,  still !" 

"Hallo !"  he  replied.  "You  seem  to  know  me. 
Forgive  me  if  I  ought  to  know  you,  but  I  can't 
fix  you  at  present.  Odd  thing,  too,  because  I 
don't  often  forget  a  face." 

"I  was  up  at  Cambridge  in  your  time,"  said 
the  man. 

"Not  Benedict's?" 

"  No  —  Trinity.  I  was  sent  down  ultimately. 
But  I  knew  you  well  by  sight.  Often  saw  you  in  the 
boat,  and  so  on.  You're  Marrable,  aren't  you  ?" 


92  FORTITER  IN  RE 

"Yes.    Were  you  a  rowing  man  ?" 

"No.  I  hunted  with  the  Drag  and  rode  at 
Cottenham  —  in  those  days."  He  glanced  philo- 
sophically at  his  present  attire. 

"Come  and  have  something,"  said  Hughie. 

The  man  interested  him.  He  might,  of  course, 
be  a  mere  long-shore  shark  on  the  make,  or  he 
might  be  what  he  looked  —  a  good-hearted,  well- 
born waster  —  an  incorrigible  but  contented  fail- 
ure. Anyhow,  five  minutes  over  a  friendly  glass 
would  probably  settle  the  question. 

"I  wonder  if  it's  possible  to  obtain  a  decent 
British  drink  in  this  clam-ridden  hole,"  Hughie 
continued. 

"  The  nearest  thing  to  a  product  of  the  British 
Empire  that  you'll  get  here,"  said  the  man,  "is 
Canadian  Club  whisky ;  and  personally  I  would 
rather  drink  nitric  acid.  We  had  better  stick  to 
lager.  Come  along:  I  know  the  ropes." 

Presently  they  found  themselves  in  a  German 
beer  saloon,  where  a  stertorous  Teuton  supplied 
their  needs. 

"By  the  way,"  said  the  man,  "I  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  you.  My  name  is  Allerton.  Sorry  I 
forgot!" 

"Thanks,"  said  Hughie,  rather  lamely.  "Are 
you  —  living  out  here  just  now?" 

"  No,"  said  Allerton  simply.  "  I  'm  a  deck-hand 
on  a  tramp-steamer."  He  spoke  easily  and  freely, 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA  MODE    93 

•as  one  gentleman  to  another.  He  had  realised 
at  a  glance  that  he  was  not  about  to  be  made  the 
victim  of  offensive  curiosity  or  misplaced  char- 
ity. "She's  lying  at  Hoboken,  due  out  on  Tues- 
day, for  Bordeaux." 

"French  boat?" 

"No.  American  owned,  under  the  British  flag, 
by  a  fairly  competent  rascal,  too.  This  trip  we 
are  carrying  a  cargo  of  Californian  wine  of  sorts. 
We  took  it  last  week  from  a  sailing  barque  that 
had  brought  it  round  the  Horn.  She  wanted  to 
start  back  at  once,  so  turned  it  over  to  us 
cheap." 

"And  you're  going  to  Bordeaux  ?  What  does 
your  astute  owner  want  to  take  coals  to  New- 
castle for?" 

"Because  everything  that  comes  out  of  New- 
castle is  labelled  coal  whether  it  is  coal  or  not. 
In  other  words,  this  poison  will  be  carried  by  us 
to  Bordeaux,  bottled  and  sealed,  and  shipped  to 
England  as  fine  vintage  Burgundy.  John  Bull 
will  drink  it  and  feel  none  the  worse.  I'm  told 
it's  a  paying  trade." 

"I  wish  I  were  going  in  your  boat,"  said 
Hughie,  rather  regretfully.  "I'm  booked  by  the 
Apulia." 

"  Well,  look  out  for  the  Orinoco  on  your  second 
day  out." 

"  The  Orinoco  ?     I  remember  seeing  her  at 


9J  FORTITER  IN  RE 

Hoboken  to-day,  and  wishing  I  could  make  the 
trip  on  her." 

"I  doubt  if  you'd  be  of  the  same  opinion  after 
trying  conclusions  with  Mr.  James  Gates,  our 
first  *  greaser,'"  replied  Allerton.  "Still,  I  don't 
know,"  he  continued,  regarding  Hughie's  brawny 
form  reflectively.  "I  don't  believe  he  could  put 
the  fear  of  death  into  you  the  way  he  does  into 
most  of  us.  You've  knocked  about  a  bit  in  your 
time,  I  dare  say,  only  with  more  success  than  I. 
Perhaps  you  were  n't  born  with  holes  in  all  your 
pockets." 

"I  say,"  said  Hughie  rather  diffidently,  —  it  is 
difficult  to  confer  a  favour  upon  a  man  who  is 
down  without  offending  him,  —  "  will  you  dine 
with  me  ?  Or  sup,  as  it's  getting  late  ?" 

"I  shall  be  charmed,"  said  the  deck-hand. 
"  Shall  I  show  you  a  place  ?  I  know  quite  a  com- 
fortable establishment  close  by  here." 

Hughie  said  "Righto!"  and  presently  they 
found  themselves  in  the  place  of  entertainment 
selected  by  Allerton.  Most  of  the  room  was  oc- 
cupied by  small  tables,  at  which  various  couples 
were  eating  and  drinking.  At  one  end  was  a 
platform,  upon  which  an  intermittent  sort  of  va- 
riety entertainment  was  in  progress. 

On  the  floor  at  the  foot  of  the  platform  was 
a  piano.  At  the  piano  sat  a  girl,  who  accompa- 
nied the  performers  and  bridged  over  the  gaps  in 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A   LA  MODE    95 

the  programme  by  selections  from  the  less  re- 
strained works  of  American  Masters  of  Music. 
Not  far  from  the  stage  an  unhealthy- looking 
youth  was  presiding  over  a  bar.  The  atmosphere 
was  something  between  that  of  a  smoking-concert, 
and  Baker  Street  Station  in  the  days  of  the  old 
Underground. 

Allerton's  lazy  nonchalance  lasted  until  the  first 
course  was  set  before  him  by  a  smiling  blacka- 
moor, and  then,  with  a  half-apologetic  aside  to 
his  host  on  the  subject  of  his  last  meal,  he  fell 
upon  the  fare  in  a  manner  which  brought  very 
vividly  home  to  Hughie's  intelligence  the  differ- 
ence between  an  amateur  casual  like  himself, 
with  money  enough  in  his  pocket  to  make  it  pos- 
sible to  knock  off  when  he  tired  of  the  game,  and 
the  genuine  article.  He  was  not  hungry,  having 
in  fact  dined  a  couple  of  hours  before ;  but  he  did 
his  best  by  tactful  pecking  to  conceal  the  fact 
from  his  guest.  Still,  even  after  he  had  ordered 
some  wine  and  duly  inspected  the  cork,  he  had  a 
good  deal  of  time  to  look  about  him. 

Presently  his  attention  began  to  concentrate 
itself  upon  the  girl  at  the  piano.  She  was  sitting 
quite  near  him,  and  Hughie,  always  respectfully 
appreciative  where  a  pretty  face  was  concerned, 
—  his  wanderings,  though  they  had  made  him 
more  than  ever  a  master  of  men,  had  done  little 
to  eradicate  his  innate  attitude  of  quiet,  deter- 


96  FORTITER  IN  RE 

mined,  and  occasionally  quite  undeserved  rever- 
ence towards  women,  —  had  time  to  notice  the 
un-American  freshness  of  her  colouring,  the  re- 
gularity of  her  profile,  and  the  prettiness  of  her 
hair.  He  also  observed  that  the  foot  which  rested 
upon  the  pedal  of  the  piano  was  small  and  shapely. 
She  was  quietly  dressed,  in  a  dark-blue  serge 
skirt  and  a  white  silk  blouse  —  or  "  shirtwaist," 
to  employ  the  mysterious  local  designation  —  with 
short  sleeves.  She  had  round  arms  and  good  hands. 

Hughie  wondered  what  she  was  doing  in  a  place 
like  this,  and,  young-man-like,  felt  vaguely  un- 
happy on  her  behalf;  but  experienced  a  truly 
British  feeling  of  relief  (mingled  with  slight  dis- 
appointment) on  observing  that  she  wore  a  wed- 
ding-ring. He  waxed  sentimental.  Who  was  her 
husband  ?  he  wondered.  He  hoped  it  was  not  the 
proprietor  of  the  establishment,  —  a  greasy  in- 
dividual of  Semitic  appearance,  who  occasionally 
found  leisure,  in  the  intervals  between  announcing 
the  "turns"  and  calling  the  attention  of  patrons 
to  the  exceptional  resources  of  the  bar,  to  walk 
across  the  room  and  paw  the  girl  affectionately 
on  the  shoulder  while  giving  her  some  direction 
as  to  the  music,  —  nor  yet  the  scorbutic  young 
man  behind  the  bar. 

His  meditations  were  interrupted  by  Allerton. 

"  Marrable,  eyes  front !  And  fill  up  your  glass. 
Hang  it,  drink  fair!" 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA   MODE    97 

Hughie  turned  and  regarded  his  guest.  The 
greater  part  of  a  magnum  of  vitriolic  champagne 
had  disappeared  down  that  gentleman's  throat. 
His  eye  had  brightened,  and  now  twinkled  face- 
tiously as  he  surveyed  first  Hughie  and  then  the 
girl  at  the  piano. 

"  Une  petite  piece  de  tout  droit  —  eh,  what  ?"  he 
remarked. 

Hughie,  beginning  to  understand  why  his  com- 
panion was  now  swabbing  decks  instead  of  ruling 
ancestral  acres,  nodded  shortly. 

Allerton  noticed  his  host's  momentary  distance 
of  manner,  and  leaned  across  the  table  with  an 
air  of  contrition. 

"I'm  afraid,"  he  said  apologetically,  "that  I'm 
getting  most  infernally  full.  You  see  how  it  is 
with  me,  don't  you  ?  I'm  that  sort  of  bloke.  Al- 
ways have  been,  from  a  nipper.  Thash  —  That's 
why  I'm  here.  It's  a  pity.  And  the  worst  of  it 
is,"  he  added,  in  a  sudden  burst  of  candour, "  that 
I'm  going  to  get  much  fuller.  It's  a  long  time 
since  I  tasted  this."  He  touched  his  glass.  "It 
is  n't  served  out  on  the  Orinoco.  Do  you  —  er  — 
mind?" 

Hughie,  with  a  queer  feeling  of  compassion, 
smiled  reassuringly,  and  ordered  another  bottle. 
If  Allerton  was  about  to  get  drunk,  he  should  get 
drunk  like  a  gentleman  for  once  in  a  way. 

Then  his  attention  reverted  to  the  piano. 


98  FORTITER  IN  RE 

There  had  been  a  development.  The  girl  was 
mechanically  playing  one  of  the  compositions  of 
that  delicate  weaver  of  subtle  harmonies,  Mr. 
John  Philip  Sousa ;  but  she  was  not  reading  her 
music.  Her  eyelids  were  resolutely  lowered,  as  if 
she  wished  to  avoid  seeing  something.  The  reason 
resolved  itself  into  a  gentleman  who  was  leaning 
over  the  front  of  the  piano,  gazing  amorously 
down  upon  the  musician,  and  endeavouring,  with 
surprising  success,  to  make  himself  heard  above 
one  of  the  composer's  most  characteristic  efforts. 

Hughie  looked  him  up  and  down.  He  was  a 
big  man,  powerfully  built,  with  little  pig's  eyes 
set  close  together,  and  a  ponderous  and  vicious- 
looking  lower  jaw.  Was  he  her  husband  ?  won- 
dered the  deeply  interested  Hughie.  No :  he  was 
too  obviously  endeavouring  to  make  himself 
agreeable. 

"  Marrable,  my  son,"  suddenly  interpolated  the 
convivial  but  observant  Allerton,  "you're  cut 
out !  No  use  bidding  against  that  customer.  Do 
you  know  who  he  is  ?" 

"No.    Who?" 

"That,"  replied  the  deck-hand  with  an  air  of 
almost  proprietary  pride,  "is  Noddy  Kinahan." 

"Oh!   And  who  may  he  be?" 

"  Gee !  (Sorry !  One  picks  up  these  rotten  Yan- 
kee expressions  somehow.)  I  mean,  I  am  surprised 
you  have  n't  heard  of  him.  He's  rather  a  big  man 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A   LA   MODE    99 

here.  In  fact,  to  be  explish  —  explicit,"  —  Mr. 
Allerton  was  fast  arriving  at  that  stage  of  intoxi- 
cation which  cannot  let  well  alone,  but  must 
tempt  Providence  by  dragging  in  unnecessarily 
hard  words,  —  "he  is  my  employer." 

"Anything  else." 

"Political  boss  of  sorts.  Inter  alia  —  that's 
good!  I'm  glad  I  remembered  that.  Inter  alia 
rhymes  with  Australia,  does  n't  it?  We'll  make 
up  a  Limerick  on  it  some  time  —  let  me  see, 
where  was  I  ?  Oh,  yesh  —  yes,  I  mean  —  inter 
alia,  he  owns  the  Orinoco  and  about  a  dozen 
more  mouldy  old  coffins;  and  very  well  he  does 
out  of  them,  too !  Buys  them  cheap,  and  —  but 
excuse  further  details  at  present,  ole  man.  To  tell 
you  the  truth  I'm  getting  so  screwed  that  I'm 
afraid  of  saying  something  that  in  my  calmer  mo- 
ments I  shall  subsequently  regret.  A  cigar?  I 
thank  you.  You're  a  white  man,  Marrable. 
Chin  chin!" 

After  this  burst  of  discretion  Mr.  Allerton  re- 
turned to  the  joint  worship  of  Bacchus  and  Vesta, 
the  difficulty  which  he  experienced  in  keeping 
the  lighted  end  of  the  cigar  out  of  his  mouth  in- 
creasing as  the  evening  advanced,  but  leaving 
his  cheerfulness  unimpaired.  His  condition  was 
due  not  so  much  to  the  depths  of  his  potations 
as  to  the  shallowness  of  his  accommodation  for 
the  same ;  and  strong- headed  Hughie,  as  he  sur- 


100  FORTITER  IN  RE 

veyed  the  weak  chin  and  receding  forehead  on 
the  other  side  of  the  table,  mused  not  altogether 
without  envy  upon  the  strange  inequality  of  that 
law  of  nature  which  decrees  that  what  is  a  tooth- 
ful for  one  man  shall  be  a  skinful  for  another  and 
an  anaesthetic  for  a  third. 

He  was  recalled  from  these  musings  by  the  re- 
membrance of  the  girl  at  the  piano,  and  turned 
to  see  what  was  happening  now. 

Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan  was  returning  from  an 
expedition  to  the  bar,  carrying  a  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne and  a  long  tumbler.  These  accessories  to 
conviviality  he  placed  on  the  top  of  the  piano, 
and  departed  on  a  second  trip,  returning  shortly 
with  a  wine-glassful  of  brandy.  The  girl,  though 
she  probably  observed  more  of  his  movements 
than  her  low-drooping  lashes  would  seem  to  al- 
low, made  no  sign,  but  continued  to  play  the  rag- 
time tune  with  a  mechanical  precision  which 
caused  the  tumbler  on  the  top  of  the  piano  to  tread 
a  lively  and  self-accompanied  measure  round  its 
more  stolid  and  heavily  weighted  companion. 

Mr.  Kinahan  next  proceeded  to  pour  himself 
out  a  tumblerful  of  champagne,  liberally  lacing 
the  foaming  liquid  with  brandy.  Xhen,  wJth  an 
ingratiating  gesture  toward  the  shrinking  girl, 
he  proceeded  to  swallow  the  mixture  with  every 
appearance  of  enjoyment. 

"King's  peg!"  commented  Hughie  to  himself. 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA  MODE    101 

"Wonder  how  much  of  that  he  can  stand?  I'd 
back  him  against  friend  Allerton,  though,  if  it 
came  — Hallo!  The  hound!  This  must  stop!" 

He  half  rose  to  his  feet.  Mr.  Kinahan,  having 
satisfied  his  present  needs,  had  refilled  the  tum- 
bler with  champagne,  added  the  rest  of  the  brandy, 
and  was  now  proffering  the  potion,  in  the  self- 
same vessel  which  he  had  just  honoured  with  his 
own  august  lips,  to  the  girl  at  the  piano. 

The  girl  turned  crimson  and  shook  her  head, 
but  kept  on  playing. 

Noddy  Kinahan  was  not  accustomed  to  bestow 
favours  in  vain.  He  walked  round  behind  the 
piano,  and,  taking  the  girl  firmly  by  the  shoulders 
with  his  left  arm,  held  the  sizzling  tumbler  to  her 
lips.  She  uttered  a  strangled  cry,  left  off  playing, 
and  struggled  frantically  to  seize  the  glass  with 
her  hands. 

Now  Hughie  Marrable  had  a  healthy  prejudice 
in  favour  of  minding  his  own  business.  He  had 
witnessed  scenes  of  this  description  before,  and 
he  knew  that,  place  and  company  considered,  the 
girl  at  the  piano  was  probably  not  unaccustomed 
to  accept  refreshment  at  the  hands  of  gentlemen, 
even  when  the  gentleman  was  half-drunk,  the 
hands  dirty,  and  the  refreshment  (after  allow- 
ing a  generous  discount  for  spillings)  sufficiently 
potent  to  deprive  any  ordinary  woman,  within 
ten  minutes,  of  any  sort  of  control  over  her  own 


102  FORTITER  IN  RE 

actions  or  behaviour.  Moreover,  Hughie  had  a 
truly  British  horror  of  a  scene.  But  — 

He  was  surprised  to  feel  himself  leap  from  his 
chair  and  bound  toward  the  piano.  His  surprise, 
however,  was  nothing  to  that  experienced  a  mo- 
ment later  by  Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan,  who,  having 
succeeded  in  pinning  the  desperately  resisting 
girl's  arms  to  her  sides,  was  now  endeavouring 
to  prise  her  lips  open  with  the  edge  of  the  tum- 
bler. But  there  are  slips  even  after  the  cup  has 
reached  the  lip.  Just  as  success  appeared  to  be 
about  to  crown  Mr.  Kinahan's  hospitable  efforts, 
a  large  and  sinewy  hand  shot  over  his  right  shoul- 
der and  snatched  away  the  glass,  which  it  threw 
under  the  piano.  Simultaneously  an  unseen  force 
in  the  rear  shook  him  till  his  teeth  rattled,  and 
then,  depressing  his  head  to  the  level  of  the  key- 
board, began  to  play  a  lively  if  staccato  tune 
thereon  with  the  point  of  Mr.  Kinahan's  rubicund 
and  fleshy  nose. 

These  operations  were  more  or  less  screened 
from  the  public  view  by  the  body  of  the  piano, 
which  was  an  "upright"  of  the  cottage  variety. 
But  the  sudden  cessation  of  "The  Washington 
Post"  in  favour  of  what  sounded  like  "The  Cat's 
Polka"  played  by  a  baby  with  its  feet,  brought 
the  proprietor  of  the  establishment  hurrying 
across  the  room.  He  arrived  just  in  time  to  be 
present  at  the  conclusion  of  a  florid  chromatic 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A   LA  MODE    103 

scale  of  about  four  octaves,  executed  under  the 
guidance  of  Hughie  Marrable's  heavy  hand  by 
Mr.  Kinahan's  somewhat  abraded  nasal  organ. 

The  instrumental  part  of  the  entertainment 
now  terminated  in  favour  of  a  vocal  interlude. 
Hughie  released  his  grip  of  Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan's 
collar,  and  stood  back  a  pace  waiting  for  a  rush. 
He  was  confident  that,  given  a  clear  floor  and  no 
interference,  he  could  offer  his  burly  opponent  a 
lesson  in  manners  which  he  would  never  forget. 

But  Mr.  Kinahan,  being  a  mover  in  high  poli- 
tical altitudes,  was  not  in  the  habit  of  doing  his 
own  dirty  work.  He  reviled  his  opponent,  it  is 
true,  in  terms  which  an  expert  could  not  but  have 
admitted  were  masterly,  but  it  was  obvious  to 
the  unruffled  Hughie  that  he  was  doing  so  chiefly 
to  keep  his  courage  up  and  "  save  his  face."  There 
was  a  cunning,  calculating  look  in  his  piggy  eyes 
which  did  not  quite  fit  in  with  the  unrestrained 
abandon  of  his  utterances,  and  Hughie  began  to 
realise  that  there  are  deeper  schemes  of  retalia- 
tion than  mere  assault  and  battery. 

Once  or  twice  Mr.  Kinahan,  in  pausing  for 
breath,  turned  and  looked  over  his  shoulder  to- 
ward the  curious  crowd  which  was  gathering  be- 
hind him.  Presently  Hughie  noticed  a  couple  of 
"toughs"  of  the  most  uncompromisingly  villain- 
ous appearance  advancing  in  a  leisurely  fashion 
from  a  corner  by  the  door,  where  they  had  been 


104  FORTITER  IN  RE 

supping.  They  kept  their  eyes  on  Kinahan,  as  if 
for  an  order.  Evidently  that  great  man  never 
took  his  walks  abroad  without  his  jackals. 

Things  were  beginning  to  look  serious.  The 
Hebraic  proprietor,  half  crazy  with  fright  at  the 
gratuitous  advertisement  which  the  fracas  was 
conferring  upon  his  establishment,  —  an  adver- 
tisement which  was  receiving  a  gratifying  response 
from  an  influx  of  curious  sightseers,  —  was  fran- 
tically begging  people  to  go  away.  The  girl,  the 
source  (as  ever !)  of  all  the  trouble,  was  still  sit- 
ting on  the  music-stool,  trembling  like  a  fluttered 
bird,  with  Hughie,  feeling  slightly  self-conscious, 
standing  over  her.  In  the  middle  distance,  Mr. 
Allerton,  gloriously  oblivious  to  the  ephemeral 
and  irrelevant  disturbance  around  him,  sat  con- 
tentedly before  two  empty  bottles,  endeavouring 
with  erratic  fingers  to  adorn  the  lapel  of  his 
blue  pea-jacket  with  a  silver-plated  fork  (the 
property  of  the  establishment),  upon  which  he 
had  impaled  a  nodding  banana  of  pantomimic 
proportions. 

Suddenly  Hughie  heard  himself  addressed  in 
casual  tones  by  some  one  standing  close  behind 
him. 

"Say,  Johnny  Bull,  you'd  best  get  out  of  here, 
right  now.  Skip !  Those  two  toughs  of  Noddy's 
won't  touch  you  till  they  get  the  word,  but  when 
they  do  you'll  be  sorry.  Get  out  this  way,  by 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA  MODE    105 

the  side  of  the  stage.  It  leads  around  to  the  back 
door." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  undoubtedly 
sound  piece  of  advice,  the  unhealthy-looking 
young  gentleman  from  behind  the  bar  picked  up 
the  champagne  bottle  and  broken  glass,  and 
lounged  back  to  his  base  of  operations. 

Hughie,  realising  the  wisdom  of  his  words,  and 
making  a  hasty  note  that  one  should  never  judge 
even  a  mottle-faced  bar-tender  by  his  appearance, 
reluctantly  abandoned  his  half -projected  scheme 
of  hurling  Noddy  Kinahan  into  the  arms  of  his 
two  sinister  supporters  and  then  knocking  their 
collective  heads  together,  and  turned  to  the  small 
door  behind  him.  Suddenly  he  caught  sight  of 
the  piano-girl.  He  paused  and  surveyed  her 
thoughtfully. 

"You'd  better  come  with  me,"  he  said. 

Without  a  word,  the  girl  rose  and  preceded 
him  to  the  door.  Hughie  opened  it  for  her,  and 
they  both  passed  through  and  hurried  down  a 
narrow  passage,  which  gave  direct  into  the  alley 
at  the  back  of  the  establishment. 

Once  outside,  Hughie  took  the  girl's  arm  and 
fairly  ran,  never  pausing  till  they  reached  the 
brightly  lighted  sea-front.  He  had  an  idea  that 
a  cheerful  and  crowded  thoroughfare  would  prove 
more  salubrious  than  deserted  and  ill-lit  byways. 

Once  clear  of  their  late  surroundings  the  two 


106  FORTITER  IN  RE 

slackened  pace,  and  Hughie  surveyed  his  charge 
with  comical  perplexity. 

"Now  what  am  I  to  do  with  you?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"Take  me  home,"  said  the  girl,  sobbing. 

Her  pluck  and  fortitude,  having  brought  her 
dry-eyed  through  the  worst  of  the  conflict,  had 
now  taken  their  usual  leave  of  absence,  and  she 
was  indulging  very  properly  in  a  few  reactionary 
and  comforting  tears. 

"Where  do  you  live?"  asked  Hughie. 

"Brooklyn." 

"That's  a  matter  for  a  trolley-car.  Come 
along." 

He  took  her  arm  again,  rather  diffidently  this 
time,  —  his  old  masculine  self-consciousness  was 
returning,  —  and  hurried  off  to  what  the  Coney 
Islanders  call  a  "deepo."  Here  they  ensconced 
themselves  in  the  corner  of  a  fairly  empty  car, 
and  started  on  their  twenty-mile  run,  via  Sheeps- 
head  Bay  and  other  delectable  spots,  to  Brooklyn 
Bridge. 

As  soon  as  the  car  started,  Hughie  turned  to 
his  companion. 

"Look  here,"  he  said  bluntly.  "1  know  a  lady 
when  I  meet  one.  What  were  you  doing  in  that 
place  at  all?  You  are  English,  too." 

"Yes.  I  can't  blame  you  for  wondering.  I'll 
tell  you.  I  come  from  London.  My  father  was 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA  MODE    107 

a  small  schoolmaster  in  Sydenham.  He  —  he  was 
unfortunate,  and  died  three  years  ago,  and  I  was 
left  alone  in  the  world,  with  hardly  two  sixpences 
to  rub  together.  Just  as  things  were  looking 
none  too  promising  for  me,  I  met  and  married" 
—  she  flushed  proudly  —  "  one  of  the  best  men 
that  ever  stepped  —  Dennis  Maclear.  He  is  an 
electrical  engineer.  We  came  out  here  together 
to  make  our  fortunes,  and  settled  in  New  York. 
We  were  beginning  to  do  fairly  well  after  a  long 
struggle,  when  one  day  Dennis  crushed  his  left 
arm  and  leg  in  a  cog-wheel  arrangement  of  some 
kind,  and  for  three  months  he  has  not  been  able 
even  to  get  out  of  bed  without  help.  Bad  luck, 
was  n't  it  ?  He  is  getting  better  slowly,  and  some 
day,  the  doctor  says,  he  will  be  able  to  get  about 
again.  But  —  well,  savings  don't  last  for  ever, 
you  know;  so  I  — " 

"I  see,"  said  Hughie;  "the  upkeep  of  the  es- 
tablishment has  devolved  on  you  in  the  mean- 
while?" 

"  Yes.  Piano-playing  is  about  the  only  accom- 
plishment I  possess.  A  girl  friend  of  mine  told  me 
she  was  giving  up  her  billet  at  old  Bercotti's, 
and  asked  if  I  would  like  it.  She  would  n't  re- 
commend it  to  most  girls,  she  said,  but  perhaps 
it  would  suit  me  all  right,  being  married.  I  took 
it ;  but  as  you  saw,  my  being  married  was  n't 
sufficient  protection  after  all." 


108  FORTITER  IN  RE 

She  shuddered,  for  she  was  very  young,  and 
badly  shaken ;  but  presently  she  smiled  bravely. 

"What  did  you  get?"  asked  Hughie. 

"Dollar  a  night." 

"It's  not  much." 

"It's  better  than  starvation,"  said  practical 
little  Mrs.  Maclear. 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  next  ?" 

"I'm  not  going  back  to  old  Bercotti's  again  — 
that's  flat." 

"Can  you  get  another  berth?" 

"  Well,  if  there  happens  to  be  anybody  in  this 
simple  and  confiding  country  who  is  willing  to 
take  on  as  accompanist  or  teacher  a  young  woman 
of  shabby-genteel  appearance,  who  is  unable  to 
mention  a  single  soul  as  a  reference,  and  has  no 
character  to  show  from  her  former  employer  —  it 
ought  to  be  easy!"  said  the  girl. 

Hughie  regarded  her  reflectively. 

"You  take  it  well.  I  admire  your  pluck,"  he 
said. 

"A  married  woman  with  a  husband  to  keep 
has  no  time  to  worry  about  pluck,"  replied  Mrs. 
Maclear ;  "  she  just  has  to  do  things.  Besides,  all 
the  pluck  in  the  world  can't  save  a  woman  when 
Noddy  Kinahan  is  about.  If  it  had  n't  been  for 
you  —  by  the  way,  would  you  mind  telling  me 
your  name  ?  You  know  mine." 

Hughie  told  her.  Presently  they  left  the  trolley- 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA   MODE    109 

car  —  anglice,  electric-tram  —  and  struck  off 
down  a  street  in  Brooklyn.  The  girl  turned  in  at 
a  doorway,  and  paused  at  the  foot  of  a  stair. 

"  Won't  you  come  up  and  see  my  husband,  Mr. 
Marrable?"  she  said.  "It's  ten  flights  up,  and 
we  don't  run  to  an  elevator ;  but  I  know  Dennis 
would  like  to  thank  you  himself." 

Hughie  had  intended  to  refuse,  —  he  hated 
being  thanked  as  much  as  most  matter-of-fact 
people,  —  but,  a  flash  of  unusual  insight  reveal- 
ing to  him  the  fact  that  the  true  object  of  the  in- 
vitation was  not  to  exhibit  him  to  the  husband, 
but  to  enable  this  proud  little  lady  to  exhibit  her 
husband  to  him,  he  felt  reassured,  and  allowed 
himself  to  be  borne  aloft  to  the  Maclear  eyrie. 
Here  a  gigantic  and  impulsive  son  of  Kerry, 
gaunt  and  hollow-eyed  through  long  bed-keeping, 
wrung  his  hand  in  a  manner  which  made  him 
feel  glad  he  was  not  a  refractory  terminal,  what 
time  Mrs.  Maclear,  in  a  sort  of  up-to-date  version 
of  the  song  of  Miriam,  described  Hughie' s  glorious 
triumph  over  Noddy  Kinahan,  laying  special 
stress  upon  the  ecstatic  period  during  which  Mr. 
Kinahan,  at  the  instance  of  Hughie,  had  enacted 
the  part  of  a  human  pianola. 

He  left  them  at  last,  wondering  in  his  heart, 
as  he  tramped  home  under  the  stars  to  his  hotel 
in  West  Forty-Second  Street,  what  the  plucky 
couple  were  going  to  live  on  during  the  next  two 


110  FORTITER  IN  RE 

or  three  months.  The  man  was  still  practically 
a  cripple,  —  he  must  have  been  badly  mangled, 
—  and  it  is  hard  work  fighting  for  time  in  a  coun- 
try whose  motto,  as  regards  human  as  well  as 
other  machinery,  is :  "  Never  repair !  Scrap,  and 
replace!" 

Hughie  had  solved  the  problem  to  his  satisfac- 
tion by  the  time  he  crossed  Brooklyn  Bridge. 

For  the  rest  of  the  way  home  he  thought  of 
other  things.  A  bachelor,  however  ungregarious, 
is  at  heart -a  sentimental  animal,  and  during  his 
walk  Hughie  was  contemplating  with  his  mind's 
eye  the  picture  that  he  had  left  behind  him  as 
he  said  good-night,  —  the  picture  of  "  a  snug  little 
kingdom  up  ten  pair  of  stairs,"  tenanted  by  a 
little  community  of  two,  self-contained  and  self- 
sufficient,  dauntless  in  the  face  of  grim  want  and 
utter  friendlessness,  —  and,  despite  his  own 
health  and  wealth,  he  experienced  a  sudden  feel- 
ing of  envy  for  the  crippled  and  impecunious 
Dennis  Maclear. 

"I  suppose,"  he  mused  to  himself,  "it  does  n't 
really  matter  how  rotten  a  time  you  have  in  this 
world  so  long  as  you  have  it  in  the  right  com- 
pany." Then  he  added,  apparently  as  a  sort  of 
corollary:  "By  gad,  when  I  get  home  next  week, 
I'll  stay  there!" 

But,  however  carefully  (or  carelessly)  we  handle 
the  tiller  on  life's  voyage,  it  is  the  little  casual 


KNIGHT-ERRANTRY  A  LA  MODE    111 

currents  and  unexpected  side  winds  that  really 
set  our  course  for  us.  As  Hughie  rolled  into  bed 
that  night  he  reflected,  rather  regretfully,  that 
the  incident  of  that  evening  was  closed  for  ever. 
He  had  definitely  cut  himself  off  from  the  Mac- 
lears,  at  any  rate,  for  the  very  simple  reason  that 
he  had  just  posted  to  them  a  hundred  one-dollar 
notes,  as  a  temporary  loan  until  their  "ship  came 
in,"  carefully  omitting  to  mention  that  his  own 
was  due  to  go  out  in  twenty-four  hours,  and  giving 
no  address  for  purposes  of  repayment. 

But  for  all  that,  the  incident  had  definitely  al- 
tered his  course  for  him,  or  at  any  rate  was  des- 
tined to  send  him  round  by  an  alternative  route. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  ALTERNATIVE  ROUTE 

HER  most  ardent  admirers  —  and  they  had 
never  been  very  numerous  —  could  hardly  have 
described  the  Orinoco  as  a  rapid  or  up-to-date 
vessel.  She  could  average  a  fair  eight  knots  in  or- 
dinary weather  (except  when  the  Chief  Engineer 
was  not  sober ;  and  then  she  had  been  known  to 
do  as  much  as  eleven),  and  she  had  faced  with 
tolerable  credit  seven  strenuous  years  of  North 
Atlantic  weather,  winter  and  summer  alike.  But 
she  was  no  flier. 

She  had  not  always  ploughed  the  ocean  at  the 
behests  of  Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan,  her  present  owner. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  dated  back  to  the  early 
sixties.  She  had  been  built  on  the  Clyde,  in  days 
when  people  were  not  in  such  a  hurry  as  they  are 
now,  for  steady  and  reliable  cross-channel  service 
between  Scotland  and  Ireland ;  and  the  crinolined 
young  lady  who  had  blushingly  performed  the 
christening  ceremony  as  the  brand-new  steamer 
slipped  down  the  ways  had  named  her  the  Gare- 
loch. 

After  fifteen  years  of  honest  buffeting  between 


THE  ALTERNATIVE  ROUTE      113 

the  Kish  and  the  Cloch  the  little  Gareloch  had 
been  pronounced  too  slow,  and  sold  to  the  pro- 
prietor of  a  line  of  coasting  steamers  which  plied 
between  Cardiff  and  London.  In  this  capacity, 
with  a  different-coloured  funnel  and  a  slightly 
decayed  interior,  she  had  served  for  nine  years  as 
the  Annie  S.  Holmes.  After  that  an  officious 
gentleman  from  the  Board  of  Trade  happened  to 
notice  the  state  of  her  boilers,  and  unhesitatingly 
declined  to  renew  her  certificate  until  various 
things  were  done  which  her  present  owner  was  not 
in  the  habit  of  doing.  Consequently  she  had  lain 
rusting  in  Southampton  Water  for  six  months, 
until  an  astute  Scot,  who  ran  a  sort  of  Dr.  Bar- 
nardo's  home  for  steamers  which  had  been  aban- 
doned by  their  original  owners,  stepped  in  and 
bought  her,  at  the  rate  of  about  a  pound  per  ton ; 
and  having  refitted  her  with  some  convenient 
boilers  which  he  had  picked  up  at  a  sale,  and 
checked  her  fuel-consumption  by  reducing  her 
grate-area,  set  her  going  again  in  a  humble  but 
remunerative  way  as  a  pig-boat  between  Limerick 
and  Glasgow.  During  this  period  of  her  career 
she  was  known  as  the  Blush  Rose  —  and  prob- 
ably smelt  as  sweet. 

The  maritime  Dr.  Barnardo  sold  her  three  years 
later  (at  a  profit)  to  a  gentleman  who  required  a 
ship  for  some  shady  and  mysterious  operations 
amid  certain  islands  in  the  Southern  Pacific.  The 


114  FORTITER  IN  RE 

nature  of  the  poor  Blush  Rose's  occupation  may 
be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  in  the  space  of 
three  months  she  made  those  already  tropical 
regions  too  hot  to  hold  her ;  and,  with  her  name 
painted  out,  a  repaired  shot-hole  in  her  counter, 
and  a  few  pearl  oyster-shells  sticking  out  here  and 
there  in  the  murky  recesses  of  her  hold,  was 
knocked  down  for  a  song  at  Buenos  Ayres  to  a 
Spanish- American  who  desired  her  for  the  fulfil- 
ment of  some  rather  private  contracts,  into  which 
he  had  entered  with  a  Central  American  State,  for 
a  consignment  of  small  arms  and  ammunition 
delivered  immediately  —  terms,  C.  O.  D.  and  no 
questions  asked.  Her  captain  on  this  occasion 
was  a  Lowland  Scot  of  disreputable  character 
but  inherent  piety,  who  endeavoured  to  confer 
a  rather  spurious  sanctity  upon  a  nefarious  en- 
terprise by  christening  his  nameless  vessel  the 
Jedburgh  Abbey.  But,  alas !  the  Jedburgh  Abbey 
was  confiscated  a  year  later  by  the  United  States 
government,  and  having  disgorged  a  most  un- 
canonical  cargo,  was  knocked  down  by  Dutch 
auction,  without  benefit  of  clergy,  to  the  highest 
bidder.  Competition  for  her  possession  was  not 
keen,  and  she  ultimately  became  the  property 
of  Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan,  who  at  that  time  was 
beginning  to  pile  up  a  considerable  fortune  by 
purchasing  old  steamers  on  their  way  to  the  scrap- 
heap  and  running  them  as  tramp-freighters  until 


THE  ALTERNATIVE   ROUTE      115 

they  sank.  The  Jedburgh  Abbey,  with  a  new 
propeller,  —  she  had  gone  short  of  a  blade  for 
years,  —  her  rusty  carcase  tinkered  into  some- 
thing like  sea- worthiness,  and  her  engines  secured 
a  little  more  firmly  to  their  bed-plates,  had  re- 
established her  social  status  by  creeping  once  more 
into  Lloyd's  list  —  the  Red  Book  of  the  Mercan- 
tile Marine  —  and,  disguised  as  the  Orinoco,  of 
the  "River"  Line  of  freight-carrying  steamships, 
had  served  Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan  well  for  seven 
years.  This  grey  morning,  with  Sandy  Hook  well 
down  below  the  western  horizon,  she  clambered 
wearily  but  perseveringlyover  the  Atlantic  rollers, 
like  a  disillusioned  and  world-weary  old  cab-horse 
which,  having  begun  life  between  the  shafts  of  a 
gentleman's  brougham,  is  now  concluding  a 
depressing  existence  by  dragging  a  funereal 
"growler"  up  and  down  the  undulations  of  a 
London  suburb. 

Her  redeeming  feature  was  a  certain  purity  of 
outline  and  symmetry  of  form.  She  boasted  a 
flush  deck,  unbroken  by  any  unsightly  waist  amid- 
ships; and  not  even  her  unscraped  masts,  her 
scarred  sides,  and  her  flaked  and  salt-whitened 
funnel  could  altogether  take  away  from  her  her 
pride  of  race,  —  the  right  to  boast,  in  common 
with  many  a  human  derelict  of  the  same  sex  and 
a  very  similar  history,  that  she  had  "  been  a  lady 
once." 


116  FORTITER  IN  RE 

She  had  now  been  at  sea  for  well  over  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  her  crew,  who  had  to  a  man  been 
brought  on  board  in  what  a  sympathetic  eye- 
witness on  a  similar  occasion  once  described  as  "  a 
state  of  beastly  but  enviable  intoxication,"  were 
once  more  beginning  to  sit  up  and  take  notice. 
Their  efforts  in  this  direction  owed  much  to  the 
kind  assistance  of  Messrs.  Gates  and  Dingle,  the 
first  and  second  mates,  who  with  cold  douche  and 
unrelenting  boot  were  sparing  no  pains  to  rouse 
to  a  sense  of  duty  those  of  their  flock  who  had  not 
yet  found  or  recovered  their  sea-legs. 

The  crew  consisted  of  two  Englishmen  and  a 
Californian,  together  with  a  handful  of  Scandi- 
navians, Portuguese,  and  Germans,  divided  by 
sea-law  (which,  like  its  big  brother,  non  curat  de 
minimis)  into  "Dagoes"  and  "Dutchmen"  re- 
spectively, representatives  of  the  Romance  races 
being  grouped  under  the  former  and  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  under  the  latter  designations.  With  one 
exception  none  of  them  had  sailed  on  the  ship 
before,  and  in  all  probability  would  never  do  so 
again.  They  had  been  purveyed  to  Captain  King- 
dom by  a  Tenderloin  boarding-house  keeper,  and 
had  signed  a  contract  for  the  voyage  to  Bor- 
deaux and  back,  wages  for  both  trips  to  be  paid 
at  the  end  of  the  second.  If  sufficiently  knocked 
about,  they  would  in  all  probability  desert  at 
Bordeaux,  preferring  to  forego  their  pay  rather 


THE  ALTERNATIVE   ROUTE      117 

than  stand  a  second  dose  of  the  home  comforts 
of  the  Orinoco.  This  was  one  of  the  ways  in 
which  Captain  Kingdom  saved  his  employer 
money  and  in  which  Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan  made 
the  "River"  Line  a  profitable  concern.  There 
were  also  others,  which  shall  be  set  forth  in  due 
course. 

Captain  Kingdom  had  just  appeared  on  the 
bridge.  He  was  a  furtive  and  sinister- looking  in- 
dividual, resembling  rather  a  pawnbroker's  as- 
sistant than  one  who  occupied  his  business  in 
great  waters.  But  he  was  a  useful  servant  to 
Noddy  Kinahan. 

"Got  all  the  hands  to  work,  Mr.  Gates?"  he 
called  down  to  the  mate. 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!"  replied  Mr.  Gates, knocking 
the  heel  of  his  boot  on  the  deck  to  ease  his  aching 
toes. 

The  captain  ran  his  eye  over  the  crew,  who 
were  huddling  together  forward  of  the  bridge. 
He  cleared  his  throat. 

"Now,  you  scum,"  he  began  genially,  "attend 
to  me,  while  I  tell  you  what  you've  got  to  do  on 
board  this  ship." 

The  scum,  stagnant  and  unresponsive^  listened 
stolidly  to  his  harangue,  the  substance  of  which 
did  not  differ  materially,  mutatis  mutandis,  from 
one  of  Mr.  Squeers's  inaugural  addresses  to  his 
pupils  on  the  first  morning  of  term  at  Dotheboys 


118  FORTITER  IN  RE 

Hall.  Captain  Kingdom's  peroration  laid  par- 
ticular stress  upon  the  fact  that  Messrs.  Gates  and 
Dingle  had  been  requested  by  him  as  a  particu- 
lar favour  to  adopt  the  policy  of  the  thick  stick 
and  the  big  boot  in  the  case  of  those  members 
of  the  crew  who  refrained  from  looking  slick  in 
executing  their  orders. 

The  crew  received  his  remarks  with  sheepish 
grins  or  sullen  scowls ;  and  the  orator  concluded : 

"Pick  watches,  Mr.  Gates,  and  then  we'll  pipe 
down  to  dinner.  Are  all  hands  on  deck  ?" 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Gates,  looking  over 
his  list. 

"I  saw  somebody  down  below  a  few  minutes 
ago,"  drawled  a  voice,  proceeding  from  a  figure 
seated  upon  a  bollard. 

It  was  Mr.  Allerton,  who,  with  characteristic 
contentment  with  (or  indifference  to)  his  lot,  had 
performed  the  unprecedented  feat  of  signing  on 
for  a  second  voyage  in  the  Orinoco.  He  wore  his 
usual  air  of  humorous  tolerance  of  the  cares  of 
this  world,  and  spoke  in  the  composed  and  unruf- 
fled fashion  which  stamps  the  high-caste  English- 
man all  over  the  globe.  His  lot  on  board  the 
Orinoco  had  been  lighter  than  that  of  most,  for 
his  companions,  finding  him  apparently  imper- 
vious to  ill-usage 'and  philosophically  genial  un- 
der all  circumstances,  had  agreed  to  regard  him 
as  a  species  of  heavily  decayed  and  slightly  de- 


THE  ALTERNATIVE   ROUTE      119 

mented  "dude,"  and  had  half-affectionately 
christened  him  "  Percy,"  —  a  term  which  sums  up 
the  typical  Englishman  for  the  New  Yorker  al- 
most as  vividly  as  "Rosbif"  and  "Godam"  per- 
form that  office  for  the  Parisian. 

The  captain  descended  from  the  bridge,  walked 
across  the  deck,  and  dispassionately  kicked  Mr. 
Allerton  off  the  bollard. 

"  Stand  up,  you  swine,  when  you  speak  to  me !" 
he  shouted.  "Where  did  you  see  anybody ?" 

Mr.  Allerton  rose  slowly  and  painfully  from  the 
scuppers.  There  are  moments  when  the  role  of 
a  Democritus  is  difficult  to  sustain. 

"I'm  sorry  you  did  that,  captain,"  he  remarked, 
"  because  I  know  you  did  n't  mean  it  personally. 
You  had  to  make  some  sort  of  demonstration, 
of  course,  to  put  the  fear  of  death  into  these  new 
hands,  but  I  regret  that  you  should  have  singled 
me  out  as  the  corpus  vile,  —  you  don't  know  what 
that  means,  I  daresay :  never  mind !  —  because 
you  have  shaken  up  my  wits  so  much,  besides 
nearly  breaking  my  hip-bone,  that  I  shall  have 
to  pause  and  consider  a  minute  before  I  remem- 
ber where  I  did  see  the  gentleman." 

If  the  captain  had  been  Mr.  Gates  he  would 
probably  have  felled  Allerton  to  the  deck  a  second 
time.  As  it  was,  he  shuffled  his  feet  uncomfort- 
ably and  glared.  The  broken  man  before  him, 
when  all  was  said  and  done,  was  his  superior; 


120  FORTITER  IN  RE 

and  the  captain,  who  was  of  sufficiently  refined 
clay  to  be  sensitive  to  social  distinctions,  was  an- 
grily conscious  of  that  sense  of  sheepish  uneasi- 
ness which  obsesses  the  cad,  however  exalted,  in 
the  presence  of  a  gentleman,  however  degraded. 

Allerton  continued :  — 

"  I  remember  now,  captain.  The  man  was  lying 
in  the  alley- way  leading  to  the  companion.  I'll 
go  and  see  how  he  is  getting  on.  Keep  your  seats, 
gentlemen." 

He  dived  down  the  fore-hatchway,  just  in  time 
to  escape  the  itching  boot  of  the  unimpressionable 
Mr.  Gates,  and  proceeded  between  decks  toward 
the  stern.  Presently  he  came  to  the  alley-way  in 
question.  The  man  was  still  there,  but  had 
slightly  shifted  his  position  since  Allerton  had 
last  seen  him.  He  was  now  reclining  across  the 
passage,  with  his  head  sunk  on  his  chest.  His 
feet  were  bare,  and  he  was  attired  in  a  blue  jumper 
and  a  pair  of  trousers  which  had  once  belonged 
to  a  suit  of  orange-and-red  pyjamas.  His  appear- 
ance was  not  impressive. 

Allerton  stirred  him  gently  with  his  foot. 

"Wake  up,  old  man,"  he  remarked,  "or 
there'll  be  hell  --  Well,  I'm  damned!" 

For  the  man  had  drowsily  lifted  his  heavy  head 
and  displayed  the  features  of  Hughie  Marrable. 

They  gazed  at  each  other  for  a  full  minute. 
Then  Allerton  said  feebly :  — 


THE  ALTERNATIVE  ROUTE      121 

"You've  preferred  the  Orinoco  to  the  Apulia 
after  all,  then  ?" 

Hughie  did  not  reply.  He  was  running  his 
tongue  round  his  cracked  and  blackened  lips,  and 
tentatively  sucking  his  palate. 

"  I  know  that  taste,"  he  remarked.  "  It  reminds 
me  of  a  night  I  once  spent  in  Canton.  I  have  it  — 
opium !  " 

Then  he  tenderly  fingered  the  back  of  his  head, 
and  nodded  with  the  interested  air  of  one  who 
is  acquiring  a  new  item  of  experience. 

"I've  been  filled  up  with  opium  before,"  he 
said,  "but  this  is  the  first  time  I've  been  sand- 
bagged. I  suppose  I  was  sand-bagged  first  and 
hocussed  afterwards.  Yes,  that's  it." 

He  looked  almost  pleased.  He  was  a  man  who 
liked  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  things.  Presently  he 
continued :  — 

"  Could  you  get  me  a  drink  of  water  ?  I've  got 
a  tongue  like  a  stick  of  glue." 

Allerton  departed  as  bidden,  presently  to  return 
with  a  pannikin.  Hughie  was  standing  up  in  the 
alley-way,  swaying  unsteadily  and  regarding  his 
attire. 

"I  say,"  he  said,  after  gulping  the  water, 
"would  you  mind  telling  me  —  you  see,  I'm  a 
little  bit  wuzzy  in  the  head  at  present  —  where 
the  devil  I  am,  and  whether  I  came  on  board  in 
this  kit  or  my  own  clothes?" 


122  FORTITER  IN  RE 

"Steamship  Orinoco,"  replied  Allerton  pre- 
cisely, "out  of  New  York,  for  Bordeaux." 

"Let  me  think,"  said  Hughie,  —  "Orinoco? 
Ah!  now  I'm  beginning  to  see  daylight.  What's 
the  name  of  the  owner,  our  friend  from  Coney 
Island  ?" 

Allerton  told  him.  "But  he's  more  than  your 
friend  now,"  he  added;  "he's  your  employer." 

Hughie  whistled  long  and  low. 

"I  see,"  he  said.  " Shanghaied  —  eh  ?  Well,  I 
must  say  he  owed  me  one :  I  fairly  barked  his  nose 
for  him  that  night.  But  now  that  he  has  had  me 
knocked  on  the  head  and  shipped  on  board  this 
old  ark,  I  think  he  has  overpaid  me.  I  owe  him 
one  again ;  and,  with  any  luck,  he  shall  have  it." 

"Do  you  remember  being  slugged?"  said  Al- 
lerton. 

"  Can't  say  I  do  precisely.  Let  me  see.  I  re- 
collect coming  along  Forty-second  Street  on  my 
way  to  the  Manhattan.  I  'd  been  dining  at  the 
Lambs,  and  I  stopped  a  minute  on  the  sidewalk 
under  an  L  railway-track  to  light  my  pipe,  when 
—  yes,  it  must  have  happened  then." 

"I  expect  you  had  been  shadowed  all  day," 
said  Allerton.  "But  I'm  forgetting  my  duties. 
You  are  wanted  on  deck." 

"Who  wants  me  ?    Noddy  Kinahan  ?" 

"  Not  much !  He  does  n't  travel  by  his  own 
ships.  It's  the  captain.  I  understand  that  you 


THE  ALTERNATIVE   ROUTE      123 

are  to  be  presented  to  the  company  as  a  little 
stowaway,  and  great  surprise  and  pain  will  be  of- 
ficially manifested  at  your  appearance  on  board." 

"All  right.  Come  along  and  introduce  me." 

Captain  Kingdom's  method  of  dealing  with 
stowaways  —  natural  and  artificial  —  was  simple 
and  unvarying.  On  presentation,  he  first  of  all 
abused  them  with  all  the  resources  of  an  almost 
Esperantic  vocabulary,  and  then  handed  them 
over  to  Mr.  Gates  to  be  kicked  into  shape. 

On  Hughie  Marrable's  appearance  on  deck, 
the  captain  proceeded  with  gusto  to  Part  One  of 
his  syllabus.  Hard  words  break  no  bones,  and 
Hughie,  who  was  breathing  in  great  draughts  of 
sea-air  and  feeling  less  dizzy  and  more  collected 
each  minute,  set  no  particular  store  by  the  oratori- 
cal display  to  which  he  was  being  treated.  In 
fact,  he  was  almost  guilty  of  the  discourtesy  of 
allowing  his  attention  to  wander.  He  set  the 
crown  upon  his  offence  by  interrupting  the  cap- 
tain's peroration. 

"Look  here,  skipper,"  he  said,  brusquely 
breaking  in  upon  a  period,  "  you  can  drop  that. 
My  name  is  Marrable.  I  am  not  a  stowaway,  and 
I  have  been  dumped  on  board  this  ship  by  order 
of—" 

"Your  name,"  said  Captain  Kingdom  with 
relish,  "  is  anything  I  choose  to  call  you ;  and  as 
you  stowed  yourself  away  on  board  — " 


124  FORTITER  IN  RE 

"Look  here,"  said  Hughie,  "I  want  a  word 
with  you  —  in  your  own  cabin  for  choice.  All 
right,"  he  continued  with  rising  voice,  as  the  cap- 
tain broke  out  again,  "I'll  have  it  here  instead. 
First  of  all,  what  is  Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan  paying 
you  for  this  job  ?" 

The  captain  turned  to  the  mate. 

"Sock  him,  Mr.  Gates!"  he  roared. 

Mr.  Gates,  whose  curiosity  —  together  with 
that  of  the  rest  of  the  crew  —  had  been  roused,  as 
Hughie  meant  it  to  be,  by  the  latter's  reference 
to  Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan 's  share  in  the  present 
situation,  moved  forward  to  his  task  with  less 
alacrity  than  usual,  and  paused  readily  enough 
when  Hughie  continued :  — 

"If  you'll  put  back,  captain,  and  land  me  any- 
where within  a  hundred  miles  of  New  York,  I'll 
give  you  double  what  Kinahan  is  paying  you  for 
this  job." 

"  You  look  like  a  man  with  money,  I  must  say !" 
replied  Kingdom.  "  Now  then,  Mr.  Gates ! " 

"It's  to  be  no  deal,  then  ?"  said  Hughie  com- 
posedly. "Very  well.  The  next  question  is,  if 
I  am  coming  with  you,  how  am  I  going  to  be 
treated  ?  Cabin  or  steer  — " 

"I'll  show  you,"  roared  the  incensed  skipper. 
"Knock  him  silly,  Mr.  Gates!" 

Mr.  Gates  came  on  with  a  rush.  But  Hughie, 
who  all  this  time  had  been  taking  his  bearings, 


THE  ALTERNATIVE  ROUTE      125 

leapt  back  lightly  in  his  bare  feet  and  snatched 
a  capstan-bar  from  the  rack  behind  him. 

"  Keep  your  distance  for  a  moment,  Mr.  Gates," 
he  commanded,  "if  you  don't  want  your  head 
cracked.  I  haven't  finished  interviewing  this 
captain  of  yours  yet.  Happy  to  oblige  you  later, 
for  any  period  you  care  to  specify." 

"  'Nother  Percy!"  commented  Mr.  Dingle  de- 
jectedly, expectorating  over  the  side.  He  was 
a  plain  man,  was  Mr.  Dingle,  and  loved  straight 
hitting  and  words  of  one  syllable. 

Mr.  Gates  paused,  and  Hughie,  leaning  back 
against  the  bulwarks  and  toying  with  the  cap- 
stan-bar, continued  to  address  the  fulminating 
mariner  on  the  bridge. 

"  Now,  captain,  I  'm  going  to  be  brief  with  you 
—  brief  and  business-like.  You've  been  paid  by 
Kinahan  to  shanghai  me  and  take  me  for  a  long 
sea- voyage.  Very  good.  I'm  not  kicking.  I 
wanted  to  get  to  Europe  anyhow,  and  I  rather 
like  long  sea-voyages,  especially  before  the  mast. 
In  fact,  I'd  rather  sail  before  the  mast  on  board 
this  ship  than  in  the  cuddy.  (Keep  still,  Mr. 
Gates!)  As  I'm  here,  I've  no  particular  objec- 
tion to  working  my  passage,  always  reserving  to 
myself  the  right  to  make  things  hot  for  your  em- 
ployer when  I  get  ashore.  I'll  work  as  an  A.B.  or 
deck-hand  if  you  like,  though  personally  I  would 
rather  do  something  in  the  engine-room.  I'm 


126  FORTITER  IN  RE 

pretty  well  qualified  in  that  direction.  But  I  must 
be  decently  treated,  and  there  must  be  no  more 
sand-bagging  or  knockabout  variety  business.  Is 
it  a  deal  ? '' 

Captain  Kingdom  surveyed  the  sinewy  stow- 
away before  him  thoughtfully.  He  saw  that  un- 
til Hughie  gave  up  the  capstan-bar  Mr.  Gates 
would  have  little  chance  of  enforcing  discipline. 
He  must  temporise. 

"I  can  give  you  a  job  in  the  engine-room,"  he 
said,  in  what  he  imagined  was  a  more  concilia- 
tory tone.  "  Second  engineer 's  down  with  some- 
thing this  morning.  You  can  take  his  watch. 
Drop  that  capstan-bar  of  yours,  and  go  and  see 
Mr.  Angus,  the  chief." 

"That  should  suit  me,"  replied  Hughie.  "But 
as  a  guarantee  of  good  faith,  and  to  avoid  disap- 
pointing the  assembled  company,  I  'm  quite  will- 
ing to  stand  up  and  have  a  turn  with  Mr.  Gates 
here,  or  that  gentleman  over  by  the  funnel-stay, 
or  any  one  else  you  may  appoint.  But  I  should 
prefer  Mr.  Gates,"  he  added,  almost  affection- 
ately. "I'm  not  in  first-class  form  at  present, 
as  my  head  has  got  a  dint  in  it  behind;  but  I'll 
do  my  best.  Are  you  game,  Mr.  Gates?" 

"Go  on,  Mr.  Gates,  learn  him!"  commanded 
the  highly  gratified  skipper. 

"  Drop  that  bar,"  shouted  the  genial  Mr.  Gates, 
"and  I'll  kill  you!" 


THE  ALTERNATIVE  ROUTE      127 

"Half  a  minute,  please,"  said  Hughie,  as  un- 
ruffled as  if  he  were  putting  on  the  gloves  for  a 
ten-minute  spar  in  a  gymnasium.  "  I  'm  not  going 
to  fight  a  man  in  sea-boots  in  my  bare  feet.  Can 
any  gentleman  oblige  me  with  —  Thank  you,  sir ! 
You  are  a  white  man." 

A  pair  of  oily  canvas  tennis  shoes,  with  list 
soles,  pattered  down  on  the  deck  beside  him. 
Their  donor,  the  "white  man," — a  coal-black 
individual  attired  chiefly  in  cotton-waste,  —  was 
smiling  affably  from  the  engine-room  hatchway. 

"They'll  dae  ye  fine,"  he  observed  unexpect- 
edly, and  disappeared  below. 

In  a  moment  Hughie  had  slipped  on  the  shoes. 
Then,  casting  away  the  bar,  he  hurled  himself 
straight  at  the  head  of  Mr.  Gates. 

In  the  brief  but  exhilarating  exhibition  which 
followed  Mr.  Gates  realised  that  a  first  mate  on 
the  defensive  is  a  very  different  being  from  a  first 
mate  on  the  rampage.  He  had  become  so  accus- 
tomed to  breaking  in  unresisting  dock- rats  and  be- 
mused foreigners,  taking  his  own  time  and  using 
his  boots  where  necessary,  that  a  high-pressure 
combat  with  a  man  who  seemed  to  be  every- 
where except  at  the  end  of  his  fist — to  his  hon- 
our he  never  once  thought  of  employing  his  foot 
—  was  an  entire  novelty  to  him.  He  fought  sul- 
lenly but  ponderously,  wasting  his  enormous 
strength  on  murderous  blows  which  never  reached 


128  FORTITER  IN  RE 

their  mark,  and  stolidly  enduring  a  storm  of 
smacks,  bangs,  and  punches  that  would  have 
knocked  a  man  of  less  enduring  material  into  a 
pulp.  But  there  is  one  blow  which  no  member 
of  the  human  family  can  stand  up  to,  glutton 
for  punishment  though  he  be.  Hughie  made  a 
sudden  feint  with  his  left  at  his  opponent's  body, 
just  below  the  heart.  Gates  dropped  his  guard, 
momentarily  throwing  forward  his  head  as  he 
did  so.  Instantaneously  a  terrific  upper-cut  from 
Hughie' s  right  took  him  squarely  under  the  chin. 
Mr.  Gates  described  a  graceful  parabola,  and 
landed  heavily  on  his  back  on  deck,  striking  his 
head  against  a  ring-bolt  as  he  fell.  The  whole 
fight  had  lasted  less  than  four  minutes. 

Hughie  was  about  to  assist  his  fallen  opponent 
to  rise,  when  he  heard  a  warning  cry  from  half- 
a-dozen  voices.  He  swung  round,  to  find  the 
captain  making  for  him,  open-mouthed,  with  the 
capstan-bar.  He  sprang  lightly  aside  —  a  further 
blessing  on  those  list  shoes !  —  and  his  opponent 
charged  past  him,  bringing  down  the  bar  with  a 
flail-like  sweep  upon  the  drum  of  a  steam  wind- 
lass. Next  moment  Hughie,  grasping  the  fore- 
mast shrouds,  leaped  on  the  bulwarks  and  pulled 
himself  up  to  the  level  of  the  bridge,  which  was  un- 
occupied save  by  the  man  at  the  wheel,  who  had 
been  an  enthusiastic  spectator  of  the  scene  below. 

Having  climbed  upon  the  bridge,  and  so  se- 


THE  ALTERNATIVE  ROUTE      129 

cured  the  upper  ground  in  case  of  any  further  at- 
tack, Hughie  leaned  over  the  rails  and  parleyed. 
In  his  hand  he  held  a  pair  of  heavy  binoculars, 
which  he  had  taken  out  of  a  box  clamped  to  the 
back  of  the  wind-screen. 

"The  first  man  who  attempts  to  follow  me  up 
here,"  he  announced,  when  he  had  got  his  breath 
back,  "will  get  this  pair  of  glasses  in  the  eye. 
Captain,  I  don't  think  you  are  a  great  success 
as  an  employer  of  labour.  You  have  n't  got  the 
knack  of  conciliating  your  men.  Can't  we  come 
to  terms  ?  Mine  are  very  simple.  I  want  some 
clothes  —  my  own,  for  choice.  If  you  have  n't 
got  them,  anything  quiet  and  unobtrusive  will  do. 
But  I  decline  to  go  about  in  orange-and-red 
pyjama  trousers  in  mid-Atlantic  to  please  you  or 
anybody  else.  For  one  thing  they're  not  warm, 
and  for  another  they're  not  usual.  If  you  will 
oblige  me  in  this  matter,  I  am  quite  willing  to 
live  at  peace  with  you.  I  don't  see  that  you  can 
really  suppress  me  except  by  killing  me,  and  that 
is  a  thing  which  I  don't  think  you  have  either  the 
authority  or  the  pluck  to  do.  Why  not  give  me  a 
billet  in  the  engine-room  and  cry  quits  ?" 

Captain  Kingdom  looked  up  at  the  obstreper- 
ous mutineer  on  the  bridge,  and  down  at  the  re- 
cumbent Mr.  Gates  on  the  deck,  and  ground  his 
teeth.  Then  he  looked  up  to  the  bridge  again. 

"All  right,"  he  growled.   "Come  down!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  BENEFIT  PERFORMANCE 

HUGHIE,  having  been  relieved  to  a  slight  ex- 
tent from  sartorial  humiliation,  entered  upon  his 
engine-room  duties  forthwith. 

The  society  in  which  he  found  himself  consisted 
of  Mr.  Angus,  the  chief,  —  engineers,  like  gar- 
deners, editors,  and  Cabinet  Ministers,  are  prac- 
tically all  Scotsmen,  —  Mr.  Goble,  the  acting- 
second  (vice  Mr.  Walsh,  sick),  and  a  motley  gang 
of  undersized,  half-mutinous,  wholly  vile  sweep- 
ings of  humanity  in  the  form  of  firemen.  Mr. 
Walsh  was  suffering  from  an  intermittent  form 
of  malaria  contracted  years  ago  in  an  up-river 
trip  to  the  pestilential  regions  round  Saigon.  Mr. 
Angus,  a  hoary-headed  and  bottle-nosed  Dun- 
donian,  who  could  have  charmed  a  scrap-heap 
into  activity,  received  Hughie  with  native  polite- 
ness, and  paid  him  the  compliment  of  working  him 
uncommonly  hard.  He  explained  (with  perfect 
truth)  that  the  only  reason  why  he  was  not  at  that 
moment  driving  a  Cunarder  was  a  habit  of  his, 
viewed  by  certain  owners  with  regrettable  nar- 
rowness of  vision,  of  "takin'  a  drap,  whiles." 
The  concluding  adverb  Hughie  correctly  esti- 


A  BENEFIT  PERFORMANCE      131 

mated  to  mean  "whenever  I  can  get  anything  to 
drink." 

"I  canna  see  what  for  they  should  be  sae  par- 
tic'  lar  aboot  it,"  mused  Mr.  Angus  in  recounting 
the  circumstance,  "for  I  haundle  her  jist  as  weel 
drunk  as  sober.  However,  here  I  am,  and  there's 
an  end  o  't.  Aiblins  it's  jist  as  weel.  I  could  rin 
the  engines  o'  ony  Cunarder  afloat,  but  I  ken  fine 
there's  not  hauf-a-dozen  men  in  their  hale  fleet 
could  knock  eight  knots  oot  o'  the  auld  Orinoco. 
There's  a  kin'  o'  divinity  aboot  it,  I  doot.  A  man 's 
pit  whaur  he's  maist  wan  tit." 

John  Alexander  Goble,  the  acting-second, 
proved  to  be  a  man  of  greater  depth  and  more 
surprises  than  his  superior.  He  it  was  who  had 
thrown  the  list  shoes  to  Hughie  before  the  battle 
with  Mr.  Gates,  which  showed  that  he  was  at 
heart  a  Sportsman ;  he  had  taken  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  asking  for  the  return  of  the  same,  which 
showed  that  he  was  a  Scotsman ;  but  he  had  found 
Hughie  a  better  pair  of  shoes  in  their  stead,  to- 
gether with  some  garments  more  suitable  than 
the  blue  jumper  and  the  orange-and-red  pyjama 
trousers,  which  showed  that  he  was  a  good  Sa- 
maritan :  and  a  man  who  is  a  Sportsman  and  a 
Scot  and  a  good  Samaritan  all  rolled  into  one  is 
an  addition  to  the  society  of  any  engine-room. 

His  face  wore  an  expression  of  chastened  gloom ; 
and  if  washed  and  set  ashore  in  his  native  Gale- 


132  FORTITER  IN  RE 

donia,  he  would  probably  have  received  a  unani- 
mous invitation  to  come  and  glower  over  the 
plate  in  the  doorway  of  the  nearest  Wee  Free 
conventicle.  His  speech  was  slow  and  unctuous : 
one  could  imagine  him  under  happier  circum- 
stances conducting  family  worship,  and  pausing 
to  elucidate  in  approved  fashion  some  specially 
obvious  passage  in  the  evening's  "portion,"  thus : 
"From  the  expression,  'a  michty  man  o'  valour,' 
we  may  gather  that  the  subject  of  this  reference 
was  a  person  of  considerable  stature  and  un- 
doubted physical  courage." 

He  was  habitually  and  painfully  sober,  for 
reasons  which  Hughie  learned  from  him  at  a 
period  when  they  had  more  leisure  to  study  each 
other's  characters.  He  was  ignorant  of  the  first 
principles  of  mechanics,  but  could  be  trusted  to 
keep  the  Orinoco's  propeller-shaft  revolving  at 
a  steady  seventy-two  to  the  minute;  and  he  had 
a  gentle  compelling  way  with  refractory  firemen 
which  made  for  sweet  reasonableness  and  gen- 
eral harmony  below  stairs,  what  time  Mr.  Angus 
was  recovering  from  one  of  those  sudden  and  re- 
grettable attacks  of  indisposition  which  usually 
coincided  with  the  forgetfulness  of  the  steward  to 
lock  up  the  cabin  whisky-bottle. 

Hughie  berthed  in  the  foc'sle,  and  was  regarded 
'by  the  Dagoes,  Dutchmen,  et  hoc  genus  omne,  with 
mingled  admiration  for  the  manner  in  which  he 


A  BENEFIT  PERFORMANCE      133 

had  settled  Mr.  Gates,  and  mystified  surprise  that 
a  man  capable  of  such  a  feat  should  be  content  to 
live  on  his  own  rations  and  sleep  in  his  allotted 
bunk,  without  desiring  to  make  researches  into 
the  respective  succulence  and  comfort  of  his 
neighbours'. 

On  the  whole  Hughie  found  his  life  tolerable 
enough,  as  the  Orinoco  butted  and  grunted  her 
way  across  the  Newfoundland  Banks;  and  he 
experienced  no  pang  when  the  Apulia,  spouting 
smoke  from  her  four  funnels  and  carrying  his 
luggage  in  one  of  her  state-rooms,  swept  past 
them  on  the  rim  of  the  southern  horizon  on  their 
third  day  out.  He  was  accustomed  to  rough 
quarters,  and  any  new  experience  of  things  as 
they  are  was  of  interest  to  him.  Moreover,  he 
possessed  the  priceless  possession  of  a  cast-iron 
digestion ;  and  a  man  so  blessed  can  afford  to  snap 
his  fingers  at  most  of  the  sundry  and  manifold 
changes  of  this  world. 

Captain  Kingdom  and  Mr.  Gates  for  the  time 
being  held  him  severely  aloof.  The  taciturn  Mr. 
Dingle  conveyed  to  him,  by  means  of  a  surpris- 
ingly ingenious  code  of  grunts  and  expectora- 
tions, that  provided  he,  Hughie,  —  or  Brown,  as 
he  was  usually  called,  —  was  content  to  go  his 
way  without  hunting  for  trouble,  he,  Mr.  Dingle, 
was  content  to  go  his  without  endeavouring  to 
supply  it.  Altogether  there  seemed  to  be  no  rea- 


134  FORTITER  IN  RE 

son  for  doubting  that  the  Orinoco,  provided  she 
did  not  open  up  and  sink  like  a  basket  en  route, 
would  ultimately  reach  the  port  of  Bordeaux, 
bringing  her  sheaves,  in  the  form  of  Hughie  and 
some  unspeakable  claret,  with  her. 

But  there  is  more  than  one  way  of  making 
money  out  of  the  shipping  trade. 

One  night  Hughie  was  leaning  over  the  taff- 
rail  behind  the  wheel-house  at  the  stern.  It  was 
two  o'clock,  and  the  darkness  was  intensified  by 
a  heavy  mist.  There  was  almost  no  wind,  and 
the  Orinoco,  like  a  draught-horse  which  feels  the 
wheels  of  its  equipage  upon  a  tram-line,  slid 
gratefully  up  and  down  the  lazy  rollers  with  the 
nearest  approach  to  comfort  that  she  had  experi- 
enced that  voyage. 

Hughie  was  idly  watching  the  phosphorescent 
wake  of  the  propeller,  wrondering  whether  Captain 
Kingdom  had  orders  to  land  him  in  France  in  his 
shirt  and  trousers  or  throw  him  overboard  before 
they  got  there,  when  a  figure  rose  up  out  of  the 
darkness  beside  him.  It  was  the  easy-going  Mr. 
Allerton. 

"Hallo,  Percy!"  said  Hughie.  He  had  soon 
dropped  into  the  nomenclature  of  the  foc'sle. 

"Look  here,"  said  Allerton,  in  a  more  pur- 
poseful voice  than  usual ;  "  come  along  and  look 
at  this  boat." 

The  largest  of  the  three  boats  carried  by  the 


A  BENEFIT  PERFORMANCE      135 

Orinoco  lay  close  by  them.  She  was  swung  in- 
board and  rested  on  deck-chocks  below  the  davits. 
A  canvas  cover,  one  end  of  which  fluttered  inter- 
mittently in  the  breeze,  roofed  her  over.  Aller- 
ton  lifted  this  flap  and  inserted  his  hand.  Pre- 
sently there  was  a  splutter  and  a  glimmer,  and  it 
became  plain  that  he  was  holding  a  lighted  match 
under  the  canvas. 

"Look!"  he  whispered. 

Hughie  peered  under  the  flap.  He  saw  water- 
barrels,  a  spirit-keg,  and  various  bags  and  boxes. 
Then  the  match  went  out,  and  Allerton  withdrew 
his  hand. 

The  pair  retired  once  more  to  their  shelter  be- 
hind the  wheel-house. 

"You  saw  that?"  said  Allerton. 

"I  did.  Do  they  usually  keep  the  boats  pro- 
visioned on  this  ship  ?  If  so,  I  don't  blame 
them." 

"Not  they.  Somebody  is  going  for  a  water- 
picnic  shortly  —  that's  all." 

Hughie  mused. 

"Am  I  the  man,  do  you  think?"  he  said  at 
length. 

"No,  I  don't  think  so.  There's  too  much  grub 
for  one.  Besides  the  other  boats  are  provisioned 
too.  It  looks  as  if  the  ship  were  to  be  aban- 
doned." 

"But  why  ?  There's  no  reason  why  she  should 


136  FORTITER  IN  RE 

drop  to  bits  for  a  long  time  yet.  Rust  is  very 
binding,  you  know.  Probably  they  keep  her  pro- 
visioned just  in  case  — " 

Allerton  wagged  his  head  sagaciously. 

"There's  more  in  this  than  meets  the  eye,'* 
he  said.  "It  is  my  pleasure  and  privilege,  as  you 
know,  to  act  as  steward  at  present  during  the  re- 
gretted retirement  of  the  regular  holder  of  that 
office,  owing  to  eczema  of  the  hands.  (Even  Mr. 
Gates  shies  at  eczema  sea-pie !)  Now  there's  some 
mischief  brewing  in  the  cuddy,  and  they're  all  in 
it  —  Kingdom,  Gates,  and  Angus.  I'm  not  quite 
sure  about  Dingle,  because  he  berths  forward; 
but  I  think  he  is  too.  What's  more :  it's  something 
they  can't  afford  to  have  given  away.  Kingdom, 
who  usually  keeps  Angus  very  short  of  drink  at 
sea,  now  lets  him  have  it  whenever  he  wants  it, 
and  generally  speaking  is  going  out  of  his  way 
to  keep  him  sweet.  That  shows  he  can't  afford 
to  quarrel  with  him.  And  when  a  captain  can't 
afford  to  quarrel  with  a  chief  engineer  whom  he 
hates,  it  usually  means  that  he  and  the  engineer 
are  in  together  over  some  hanky-panky  which  has 
its  roots  in  the  engine-room.  You  mark  my  words, 
one  of  these  fine  nights  that  hoary-headed  old 
Caledonian  will  open  a  sea-cock  or  two  and  rush 
up  on  deck  and  say  the  ship  is  sinking.  It'll  be 
a  case  of  all  hands  to  the  boats ;  the  Orinoco  will 
go  to  her  long-overdue  and  thoroughly  deserved 


A  BENEFIT  PERFORMANCE      137 

rest  at  the  bottom,  and  the  insurance  people  will 
pay  up  and  look  pleasant." 

"H'm,"  said  Hughie;  "there  seems  to  be  some- 
thing in  what  you  say.  I  wish  I  could  keep  an 
eye  on  the  old  sinner  in  the  engine-room;  but 
since  Walsh  came  back  to  duty  I've  no  excuse  for 
going  there  at  all  now.  It  might  almost  be  worth 
while  to  warn  Goble.  He  's  a  decent  chap." 

"Who  is  on  duty  in  the  engine-room  now?" 

"  Walsh,  I  should  think.  Angus  usually  makes 
way  for  him  about  eight  bells.  But  I  'm  not  sure. 
Hark!  Do  you  notice  anything  about  the  beat 
of  the  engines  ?" 

"Not  being  an  expert,  can't  say  I  do.  They 
sound  a  trifle  more  asthmatic  than  usual,  perhaps. 
What's  up?" 

"  Somebody  has  got  the  donkey-pump  at  work," 
said  Hughie.  "It  may  be  Angus,  after  all,  mon- 
keying with  the  water- ballast.  Hallo!"  He  leaned 
over  the  stern-rail  and  peered  down.  "Do  you 
notice  anything  unusual  about  the  propeller?" 

"  It  seems  to  be  kicking  up  a  bit  of  a  dust,"  said 
Allerton.  "Is  it  going  round  faster,  or  getting 
nearer  the  surface?" 

"It's  half  out  of  the  water,"  said  Hughie. 
"That  means  that  the  old  man  has  pumped  out 
the  after  double-bottom  tank.  Look,  we're  all 
down  by  the  head!" 

The  two  stepped  out  from  behind  the  wheel- 


138  FORTITER  IN  RE 

house  and  gazed  forward.  The  flush  deck  of  the 
Orinoco  was  undoubtedly  running  downhill 
towards  the  bows. 

"What's  the  game?"  inquired  Allerton  ex- 
citedly. 

Hughie  was  thinking.    Presently  he  said :  — 

"I'm  not  sure,  but  his  next  move  should  tell 
us.  Either  he  is  trying  to  drive  her  nose  under 
and  sink  her  by  manipulating  the  water-ballast, 
which  seems  a  hopeless  job  in  a  flat  calm  like 
this,  and  suicidal  if  it  comes  off;  or  else  he  is 
working  up  for  a  scare  of  some  kind,  which  will 
frighten  the  crew  into — Hallo?  what's  that?" 

There  was  a  warning  cry  from  Mr.  Dingle,  who 
was  standing  right  forward  in  the  bows. 

"Something  right  ahead,  sir!   Looks  like  — " 

There  was  an  answering  shout  from  the  bridge, 
where  the  captain  was  standing  by  the  wheel, 
followed  by  a  jangling  of  telegraph-bells.  Next 
moment  the  Orinoco  gave  a  jar  and  a  stagger, 
and  Hughie  and  Allerton  pitched  forward  on  to 
their  noses. 

There  were  shouts  and  cries  all  over  the  ship, 
and  men  came  tumbling  up  the  hatchways. 

"We've  struck  something,"  gasped  Allerton. 

"Struck  your  grandmother!"  grunted  Hughie, 
who  was  sitting  up  rubbing  his  nose  tenderly. 
"That  jar  came  from  directly  underneath  us. 
It  was  caused  by  Angus  reversing  his  engines 


A  BENEFIT  PERFORMANCE      139 

without  giving  the  ship  time  to  slow  down.  I 
daresay  he  never  even  shut  off  steam.  Likely 
enough  he's  lifted  the  engines  off  their  beds.  Well, 
perhaps  he  had  finished  with  them  anyway.  Come 
along  forward." 

By  this  time  a  frightened  crowd  had  assembled 
on  the  deck  of  the  Orinoco,  which,  lying  motion- 
less on  the  silent  sea,  artistically  tilted  up  by  the 
stern,  —  Hughie  began  to  grasp  the  inwardness  of 
Mr.  Angus's  manoeuvres  with  the  water-ballast, 
—  presented  a  sufficiently  alarming  appearance 
even  on  that  calm  night. 

Mr.  Dingle  and  the  captain,  the  one  hanging 
over  the  bows  and  the  other  standing  in  an  at- 
titude of  alertness  on  the  bridge,  were  sustain- 
ing between  them  a  conversation  which  vaguely 
suggested  to  Hughie  a  carefully  rehearsed  "  cross- 
talk" duologue  between  two  knockabout  artistes 
of  the  Variety  firmament  —  say  the  Brothers 
Bimbo  in  one  of  their  renowned  impromptu 
"  patter  scenes."  The  resemblance  was  enhanced 
by  the  fact  that  the  "patter"  was  delivered  for- 
tissimo by  both  performers,  and  each  repeated 
the  other's  most  telling  phrases  in  tones  which 
made  it  impossible  for  the  audience  to  avoid  hear- 
ing them. 

"What  was  it?"  shouted  Bimbo  Senior  (as 
represented  by  Captain  Kingdom). 

"Lump  of  wreckage!"  roared  Bimbo  Junior, 


140  FORTITER  IN  RE 

from  a  prolonged  scrutiny  of  the  ship's  fore- 
foot. 

"Lump  of  wreckage  ?"  bellowed  Bimbo  Senior. 

"Lump  of  wreckage!"  corroborated  Bimbo 
Junior. 

"Of  course  it  might  have  been  ice,"  suggested 
Number  One,  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"Might  have  been  ice,"  replied  the  conscien- 
tious echo. 

"Pairsonally  I'm  inclined  tae  believe  it  was  jist 
a  wee  bit  coral  island,"  interpolated  a  third  voice, 
with  painful  and  stunning  distinctness.  The  Chief 
Engineer  had  suddenly  made  his  appearance  on 
the  bridge. 

The  captain  was  obviously  much  put  out.  In 
the  first  place,  coral  islands  are  not  plentiful  hi 
the  North  Atlantic,  and  there  are  limits  even  to 
the  gullibility  of  an  audience  composed  of  foreign 
deck-hands  and  half- civilised  firemen.  Secondly, 
the  axiom  that  two  is  company  and  three  none 
applies  even  to  cross-talk  duologues.  Thirdly, 
Mr.  Angus  was  excessively  drunk,  and  conse- 
quently the  laboriously  planned  comedietta  at 
present  in  progress  might,  owing  to  his  inartis- 
tic and  uncalled-for  intrusion  upon  the  scene,  take 
a  totally  unrehearsed  turn  at  any  moment. 

The  captain  lost  no  time. 

"  What  report  have  you  from  the  engine-room, 
Mr.  Angus?"  he  inquired  loudly  and  pointedly. 


A  BENEFIT  PERFORMANCE      141 

Mr.  Angus,  suddenly  recognising  his  cue,  and 
realising  almost  with  tears  that  he  had  been  im- 
perilling the  success  of  the  entire  piece  by  un- 
seemly "gagging,"  pulled  himself  together,  re- 
turned to  his  text,  and  announced  that  the  ship 
was  badly  down  by  the  head  and  the  stokehold 
awash. 

"There's  nothing  else  for  it,"  yelled  the  captain 
resignedly,  "  but  to  leave  her.  Clear  away  the 
boats,  Mr.  Gates!" 

Having  thus  established  a  good  working  expla- 
nation of  the  disaster,  and  incidentally  enlisted 
the  entire  audience  —  those  members  of  it,  that 
is,  who  were  not  already  doing  service  in  the 
claque  —  as  unbiassed  witnesses  for  the  defence 
in  case  the  insurance  company  turned  nasty,  the 
intrepid  commander  descended  from  the  bridge 
to  his  cabin,  to  collect  a  few  necessaries  pending 
the  abandonment  of  his  beloved  vessel. 

Hughie  and  Allerton  surveyed  each  other. 

"Which  boat  are  you  going  in?"  inquired 
Allerton. 

"None,"  said  Hughie. 

"Going  to  stay  on  board?" 

Hughie  nodded. 

"But  she'll  sink  under  our  feet." 

"I  don't  believe  she's  as  badly  damaged  as  all 
that.  There's  some  game  on  here." 

"I  don't  suppose  she's  damaged  at  all,"  said 


142  FORTITER  IN  RE 

Allerton,  "but  you  can  be  sure  they  won't  be  such 
blamed  fools  as  to  leave  the  ship  floating  about 
to  be  picked  up.  Old  Angus  will  let  water  into 
her  before  he  leaves,  if  he  has  n't  started  the  pro- 
cess already." 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  in  any  of  those  boats," 
said  Hughie.  "If  the  Orinoco  sinks,  I'll  float  to 
Europe  on  a  hen-coop." 

"May  I  have  half  of  it?"  said  Allerton. 

"You  may,"  said  Hughie. 

And  so  the  S.  S.  Orinoco  Salvage  Company, 
Limited,  was  floated,  and  the  Board  of  Directors 
entered  upon  their  new  duties  at  once. 

By  this  time  the  boats  had  been  swung  out- 
board and  their  provisioning  completed.  They 
were  now  lowered  from  the  davits,  and  the  men 
began  to  take  their  places.  There  was  no  panic, 
for  the  night  was  calm,  and  the  Orinoco  showed 
no  signs  of  settling  deeper.  Messrs.  Gates  and 
Dingle  were  already  at  their  respective  tillers. 
Captain  Kingdom  and  Mr.  Angus  were  standing 
by  the  davits  to  which  the  whale-boat  was  still 
shackled.  Mr.  Goble,  apparently  in  no  hurry,  was 
leaning  over  the  bulwarks  in  the  darkness  not  far 
from  Hughie  and  Allerton,  dispassionately  regard- 
ing the  crew's  preparations  for  departure.  He 
approached  nearer. 

"There's  a  wheen  fowk  in  thae  boats,"  he  ob- 
served. "I  doot  we'd  be  safer  on  board." 


A  BENEFIT  PERFORMANCE      143 

Hughie  turned  to  him  and  nodded  compre- 
hendingly. 

"That's  my  opinion  too,"  he  said,  "and  Percy's. 
We're  thinking  of  staying  here." 

Mr.  Goble  regarded  him  reflectively. 

"Is  that  a  fact  ?"  he  said.  "  Weel,  I'll  bide  too." 

And  so  a  third  member  was  co-opted  on  to  the 
Board  of  Directors. 

"We'd  better  get  out  of  sight,"  said  Hughie. 
"They  won't  like  leaving  us  behind.  I  think  I 
know  a  good  place  to  wait.  Come  along." 

The  trio  slipped  round  behind  the  chart-house, 
passed  along  a  deserted  stretch  of  the  deck,  and 
disappeared  down  the  engine-room  hatchway. 

The  engine-room  was  illuminated  by  a  couple 
of  swinging  lanterns.  A  black  and  greasy  flood 
of  water  glistened  on  the  iron  floor  below,  filling 
the  crank-pits  and  covering  the  propeller-shaft. 
The  doors  leading  to  the  stokehold  were  standing 
open,  and  they  could  see  that  the  floors  there  too 
were  flooded,  though  the  water  had  not  reached 
the  level  of  the  fire-bars.  Owing  to  the  immo- 
bility of  the  ship,  its  oily  surface  was  almost  un- 
ruffled, and  the  engine-room  itself  was  curiously 
quiet  after  the  turmoil  on  deck.  The  fires  were 
burning  low,  but  occasionally  a  glowing  clinker 
slipped  from  between  the  bars  into  the  blood-red 
flood  beneath,  with  a  sizzling  splash.  The  steam 
was  hissing  discontentedly  in  the  gauges. 


144  FORTITER  IN  RE 

The  Salvage  Board  stood  knee-deep  in  the 
water  of  the  engine-room. 

Hughie  picked  up  a  smoky  inspection-lamp,  — 
a  teapot-like  affair  with  a  wick  in  the  spout,  — 
lit  it,  and  peered  about. 

"Now  look  here,"  he  said,  "I  don't  quite  know 
where  this  water  came  from,  and  it  does  n't  much 
matter,  as  no  more  is  coming  in  at  present.  If 
the  old  man  means  to  sink  the  ship  he  will  have 
to  come  down  here  to  do  it.  He  has  probably 
got  some  dodge  arranged  by  which  he  can  just 
turn  a  wheel  and  open  a  valve  and  send  her  to 
the  bottom.  Isn't  that  the  idea,  Goble?  (I'll 
explain  to  you  afterwards,  Allerton.)  My  impres- 
sion is  that  he'll  pop  down  and  turn  the  valve  on 
just  before  he  leaves.  In  that  case  one  of  us 
must  stand  by  and  turn  it  off  again.  You  two 
go  through  into  the  stokehold.  He's  not  likely 
to  come  in  there.  If  he  does,  you  must  use  your 
own  discretion.  I'll  wait  here,  on  the  far  side  of 
the  cylinders,  up  against  the  condenser.  He's  not 
likely  to  see  me,  but  I  shall  be  able  to  watch  him 
and  see  which  valve- wheel  he  turns  on." 

The  other  two  obeyed,  and  Hughie,  scrambling 
across  the  bed-plates  of  the  engines,  ensconced 
himself  behind  a  convenient  cross-head,  with  his 
feet  in  a  flooded  crank-pit  and  his  body  squeezed 
back  as  far  as  possible  into  the  shadow  of  the 
condenser. 


A  BENEFIT  PERFORMANCE      145 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  Presently  cautious 
feet  were  heard  descending  the  iron  ladder,  and 
Mr.  Angus,  comparatively  sober,  stepped  heavily 
into  the  flood  on  the  floor. 

His  first  proceeding  was  to  wade  to  the  stoke- 
hold end  of  the  engine-room,  —  Hughie  thought 
at  first  that  he  was  going  right  through  into  the 
arms  of  Allerton  and  Goble,  and  wondered  what 
they  would  do  with  him,  —  where  he  began  to 
manipulate  the  great  valve-wheel  which  kept  the 
steam  imprisoned  in  the  boilers;  and  presently 
Hughie  could  hear  the  roar  of  the  escape  far 
above  his  head.  This  was  a  purely  precautionary 
measure,  and  could  do  no  harm  to  any  one. 

Then  Mr.  Angus  splashed  his  way  to  the  corner 
by  the  donkey- pump,  where  the  machinery  for 
controlling  the  bilge  and  water-ballast  valves  was 
situated,  and  began  to  twist  over  another  wheel. 
Presently  there  was  a  gurgling  bubbling  sound 
in  the  bowels  of  the  ship,  followed  by  a  slight 
hissing  and  whispering  on  the  surface  of  the 
water  on  the  engine-room  floor.  The  valve  was 
open. 

Mr.  Angus  turned  and  lurched  heavily  through 
the  rising  flood  to  the  iron  ladder.  Thirty  seconds 
later  a  glistening  figure  crawled  out  of  the  crank- 
pit  and  vigorously  turned  the  wheel  in  the  oppo- 
site direction.  The  gurgling  and  hissing  ceased. 
The  valve  was  closed. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LITERA  SCRIPTA  MANET 

**MR.  MARRABLE,  did  ever  ye  see  a  drookit 
craw?" 

"No." 

"Well,  see  me!"  announced  Mr.  Goble  com- 
placently. 

He  crawled  out  of  the  engine-room  companion- 
way  and  sat  down  on  the  deck.  Excessive  spruce- 
ness  had  never  been  a  foible  of  his,  but  now  he 
was  an  unrecognisable  mass  of  coal-dust,  oil,  and 
rust.  He  was  dripping  wet,  for  he  had  spent 
the  last  hour  in  an  exhaustive  examination  of  the 
Orinoco's  waterlogged  internal  economy.  The 
morning  sun  was  warm,  and  he  steamed  comfort- 
ably as  he  detailed  the  result  of  his  investigations 
to  Hughie,  who  in  some  imperceptible  but  inevit- 
able manner  had  taken  command  of  the  tiny 
ship's  company. 

Shorn  of  technicalities  and  irrelevant  excur- 
sions into  the  regions  of  pawky  philosophy,  Mr. 
Goble' s  report  came  to  this. 

Mr.  Angus  had  pumped  out  the  after  ballast- 
tank  during  the  night,  allowing  the  water,  by 
means  of  a  specially  rigged  return-pipe,  to  flow 


LITERA   SCRIPTA  MANET       147 

into  the  bilges  of  the  ship  instead  of  escaping 
overboard.  By  this  device  he  had  altered  the 
Orinoco's  centre  of  gravity  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  produce  the  afore-mentioned  down-hill  slant 
of  her  decks  —  a  corroborative  detail,  as  Pooh- 
Bah  would  have  observed,  which  gave  a  little 
much-needed  artistic  verisimilitude  to  the  Bimbo 
Brothers'  bald  and  unconvincing  narrative  of  dis- 
aster. Incidentally  he  had  flooded  the  forehold 
and  engine-room  with  sufficient  water  to  give 
those  members  of  the  ship's  company  who  were 
not  in  their  employer's  confidence  the  impression 
that  she  was  sinking,  and  to  furnish  those  who 
were  with  a  prima  facie  argument  for  deserting 
her. 

But  these  thoughtful  precautions,  though  suffi- 
cient to  procure  the  abandonment  of  the  Orinoco, 
were  by  no  means  sufficient  to  send  her  to  the 
bottom,  a  consummation  to  be  achieved  at  any 
cost;  for  to  leave  your  ship  lying  about  in  mid- 
ocean,  to  be  picked  up  by  the  first  chance-comer, 
while  you  go  hurrying  home  to  extract  a  cheque 
from  the  insurance  company,  savours  of  slipshod 
business  methods ;  and  Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan  was 
nothing  if  not  thorough. 

Now  every  steamer  which  plies  under  Lloyds' 
segis  is  fitted,  below  the  water-line,  with  a  set  of 
what  are  called  bilge-valves.  Through  these  it 
is  possible  to  expel  any  water  which  may  have 


148  FORTITER  IN  RE 

found  its  way  into  the  body  of  the  vessel.  As  it 
is  even  more  desirable  to  prevent  the  entrance  of 
water  into  your  ship  than  to  assist  its  exit,  these 
valves  are  of  a  strictly  "non-return"  variety, 
and  no  amount  of  pressure  from  the  outside 
should  ever  prevail  upon  them  to  play  the  part  of 
Facing-Both-Ways.  The  very  life  of  the  ship 
depends  upon  them ;  and  the  enterprising  individ- 
ual who  tampers  with  their  mechanism  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  convert  what  is  meant  to  be  an 
Emergency  Exit  into  a  sort  of  Early  Door  for 
the  rolling  deep,  does  so  at  the  risk  of  coming 
into  immediate  and  painful  collision  with  the 
criminal  laws  of  his  country. 

Mr.  Angus,  it  appeared,  had  been  employing 
some  of  his  spare  time  during  the  voyage  in  re- 
versing one  of  these  bilge-valves,  with  such  skill 
and  finesse  that,  as  we  have  seen,  one  had  only 
to  give  a  turn  to  a  worm-and-wheel  gear  in  the 
engine-room  to  admit  the  Atlantic  Ocean  in  large 
quantities. 

"Oh,  he  has  a  heid  on  him,  has  Angus!"  com- 
mented Mr.  Goble  with  professional  appreciation, 
"even  when  he's  fou'.  He  made  a  rare  job  o't. 
But  how  he  managed  to  contrive  that  imitation 
o'  a  collision,  merely  through  some  jookery-pack- 
ery  wi'  the  reverse-gear  and  throttle,  wi'oot  tear- 
in'  the  guts  oot  o'  her,  I  div  not  ken.  Man,  it  was 
a  fair  conjurin'  trick !  By  rights  the  link  motion 


LITERA   SCRIPTA   MANET       149 

should  be  twisted  intil  a  watch-chain  and  the 
cross- heids  jammit  in  the  guides.  But  they're 
no.  It's  jist  Providence,  I  doot,"  he  added  rather 
apologetically,  with  the  air  of  one  who  should 
have  thought  of  this  sooner. 

Then  he  uprose  from  his  seat  on  an  inverted 
bucket. 

"Before  I  gang  ben,  sir,"  he  concluded,  "tae 
change  ma  feet  and  ma  breeks,  I'll  tak'  the  liberty 
tae  inquire  of  you  what  you  propose  tae  dae  next. 
Maircy  me!  Yon's  Walsh." 

Two  figures  had  appeared  round  the  corner  of 
the  chart-house,  their  presence  on  the  far  side 
thereof  having  been  advertised  for  some  time  by 
the  clanking  of  the  deck-pumps.  (Mr.  Angus's 
precaution  of  blowing  off  steam  before  leaving 
had  put  mechanical  assistance  in  getting  rid  of 
the  water  out  of  the  question  for  the  time  being.) 

"Yes,  it's  me,"  said  Walsh,  who,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, was  the  second  engineer,  to  whom 
Hughie  had  recently  been  acting  as  deputy.  "I 
should  have  come  on  duty  at  eight  bells  to  re- 
lieve Angus,  but  I  slept  right  through  everything 
till  Mr.  Marrable  found  me  in  my  bunk  an  hour 
or  two  ago.  I  expect  they  put  something  in  my 
grog  last  night." 

"It's  quite  a  hobby  of  theirs,"  said  Allerton 
drily.  "Mr.  Marrable,  I  have  found  something 
that  may  be  useful  to  us." 


150  FORTITER  IN  RE 

He  handed  his  superior  officer  a  damp  but  un- 
damaged little  packet  of  papers. 

"Where  did  you  find  them?"  asked  Hughie. 
"I  thought  I  had  gone  through  Kingdom's  kit 
pretty  thoroughly." 

"They  were  sticking  in  the  falls  of  the  davits 
belonging  to  the  boat  Kingdom  went  off  in,"  re- 
plied Allerton.  "I  saw  him  hurrying  along  the 
deck  from  his  cabin  just  before  his  departure, 
carrying  the  log-book  and  some  papers  and  in- 
struments. I  expect  he  dropped  these  as  he  went 
over  the  side." 

"Sit  down,  everybody,"  said  the  commander, 
"we'll  see  this  through.  It  may  concern  us  all." 

The  packet  contained  two  letters,  together  with 
some  invoices  and  bills  of  lading  referring  chiefly 
to  the  Orinoco's  cargo  of  astringent  claret. 

Hughie  glanced  through  the  letters.  Then  he 
re-read  them  with  some  deliberation.  Then  he 
whistled  low  and  expressively.  Then  he  sat  up 
and  sighed,  gently  and  contentedly. 

"Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan,"  he  said,  "is  shortly 
going  to  wish,  with  all  his  benevolent  and  philan- 
thropic little  heart,  that  he  had  never  been  born. 
And  we  are  the  people  that  are  going  to  make  him 
wish.  Listen!" 

He  read  the  two  letters  aloud.  They  were  brief, 
but  explicit.  One  contained  Kinahan's  orders  to 
Kingdom  as  to  the  disposal  of  the  Orinoco.  The 


LITERA   SCRIPTA   MANET       151 

other  was  a  sort  of  invoice,  or  consignment  note, 
relating  to  the  person  of  one  Marrable,  who  had 
apparently  been  shipped  on  board  the  night  before 
the  ship  sailed.  Each  of  these  documents,  it  may 
he  added,  contained  sufficient  matter  to  ensure 
penal  servitude  for  their  author. 

Hughie  stopped  reading,  and  there  was  a  long 
and  appreciative  silence.  Then  Allerton  said  :  — 

"  What  beats  me  is  to  understand  how  Kinahan 
could  have  been  such  a  mug  as  to  commit  these 
schemes  to  paper,  and  how  Kingdom  should  have 
been  such  a  fool  as  to  want  to  keep  them.  I'd 
have  let  them  go  down  in  the  Orinoco." 

"I  expect  one  explanation  covers  both  cases," 
said  Hughie.  "  Kingdom  probably  demanded  his 
orders  in  black  and  white,  as  a  guarantee  that  he 
would  get  his  money  when  he  had  done  his  job. 
Otherwise  he  had  no  claim  on  Kinahan  for  a 
penny,  beyond  his  ordinary  wage  as  skipper. 
Kinahan  probably  agreed,  stipulating  that  the 
letters  should  be  handed  back  to  him  when  they 
squared  accounts.  It  was  a  risky  thing  to  do,  but 
when  two  thieves  can't  trust  each  other,  and  go 
dropping  about  documentary  evidence  to  that 
effect  —  well,  that's  where  poor  but  deserving 
people  like  ourselves  come  in.  No,  I  should  n't 
think  Kingdom  would  want  to  leave  these  behind ; 
and  I  opine  that  he's  a  pretty  sick  man  by  this 
time  if  he  has  missed  them." 


152  FORTITER  IN  RE 

He  folded  the  letters  up,  and  put  them  away 
carefully. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  he  said  briskly,  "I  propose 
that  we  go  below  and  see  if  there  is  sufficient 
steam  on  the  Orinoco  to  pump  the  rest  of  the 
water  out  of  her  and  get  the  propeller  revolving 
again.  We'll  have  to  damp  down  most  of  the 
fires,  because  we  can't  run  to  many  firemen,  but  I 
think  we  ought  to  knock  four  or  five  knots  out 
of  her  in  ordinary  weather.  Luckily,  seventy- 
five  per  cent  of  the  ship's  company  are  competent 
engineers.  After  that  we'll  have  some  breakfast, 
and  after  that  we'll  make  tracks  for  home.  We'll 
work" — he  smacked  his  lips  cheerily,  like  an 
energetic  pedagogue  on  the  first  morning  of  term 
—  "  in  shifts  of  three.  Two  men  wrill  run  the 
engine-room  and  stokehold,  and  the  third  will 
take  the  wheel.  The  fourth  can  sleep.  That  will 
give  us  each  eighteen  hours  on  and  six  hours  off. 
I  don't  know  where  we  are,  and  I  have  no  means 
of  finding  out,  as  Captain  Kingdom  has  walked 
off  with  the  chart  and  most  of  the  proper  instru- 
ments. But  we  must  be  near  land,  or  they  would 
not  have  taken  to  the  boats  yet.  If  we  keep  steam- 
ing steadily  east  (with  a  little  north  in  it),  at  about 
a  hundred  miles  a  day,  —  which  I  fancy  is  about 
our  limit,  —  we  should  knock  up  against  some- 
thing sooner  or  later.  And  when  we  do,  we'll  get 
hold  of  the  proper  authorities,  and  I  venture  to 


LITERA   SCRIPTA   MANET       153 

think  that  with  the  help  of  these  two  letters  and 
that  doctored  bilge-valve  down  below  we  shall  be 
able  to  prepare  a  welcome  for  those  three  boat- 
loads of  shipwrecked  mariners,  when  they  arrive, 
that  will  surprise  them.  Also,  I  fancy  there  will 
be  pickings  for  you  in  the  way  of  salvage.  What 
a  game!"  Hughie  stood  up,  and  inhaled  a  great 
breath.  This  was  real  life!  "Are  you  on,  boys  ?" 
he  cried  suddenly.  "Is  the  old  Orinoco  going  to 
the  bottom  this  journey?" 

The  crew  rose  at  him  and  gave  three  cheers. 

Later  that  afternoon,  as  the  Orinoco  pounded 
along  at  a  strictly  processional  pace  through  the 
ruffling  waters,  —  the  glass  was  falling  and  a 
breeze  getting  up,  —  Deputy -Quartermaster 
Lionel  Hinchcliffe  Welford-Welford  Allerton, 
late  scholar  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  some- 
time Assistant  Deck-Hand  in  the  mercantile 
marine,  descried  from  his  post  on  the  bridge  a 
small  moving  object  upon  the  starboard  bow. 

It  was  the  Orinoco's  whale-boat,  which  was 
proceeding  under  two  lugsails  on  a  course  parallel 
with  the  steamer's. 

Allerton,  who  in  the  excitement  of  salving  the 
Orinoco  had  almost  forgotten  the  existence  of  the 
gang  of  buccaneers  who  had  scuttled  her,  excitedly 
rang  the  telegraph  bell  and  summoned  the  rest  of 
the  ship's  company  to  his  side. 


154  FORTITER  IN  RE 

The  emotions,  however,  aroused  in  the  Orinoco 
by  the  sight  of  the  whale-boat  were  mild  in  com- 
parison with  those  excited  in  the  undutiful  whale- 
boat  by  the  spectacle  of  her  resuscitated  parent. 
Mr.  Angus,  on  beholding  the  steamer,  kept  dis- 
creetly silent.  He  had  given  himself  away  by 
seeing  things  which  were  not  there  once  or  twice 
in  his  life  before.  But  Captain  Kingdom  turned 
a  delicate  apple-green. 

"Look  there!"  he  gasped,  pointing. 

"Yon  bit  cloud,  ye  mean?"  said  the  cautious 
Angus. 

"No,  no,  man  —  the  Orinoco!"  cried  the 
frantic  skipper. 

"Oh  — the  shup!  Aye,  aye!"  replied  Mr. 
Angus,  rather  pleased  than  otherwise. 

"There's  a  crew  on  board  her,"  continued 
Kingdom  shakily.  "And  she's  got  steam  on  her, 
too!" 

"  Aye,"  said  Mr.  Angus.  "  I  doot  somebody  will 
have  closed  yon  sea-cock  again." 

"  Who  can  it  be  ?"  demanded  the  captain  fever- 
ishly. "Surely  we  left  no  one  on  board.  I  told 
Dingle  to  take  that  fellow  Marrable  in  his  boat." 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  Mr.  Angus,  "yin  of  the 
other  boats  cam'  back." 

Kingdom  pointed  impatiently  to  two  small 
specks  upon  the  horizon. 

"They're  there,"  he  said. 


LITERA   SCRIPTA  MANET       155 

"Maybe  some  liner  has  come  across  her  and 
left  a  bit  crew  on  board  her,"  continued  the  fer- 
tile Mr.  Angus. 

"If  so,  we'd  have  seen  the  liner,"  replied  King- 
dom irritably. 

He  took  up  his  binoculars  and  began  to  scruti- 
nise the  Orinoco,  which  had  altered  her  course  a 
few  points  in  their  direction. 

Mr.  Angus  had  a  fresh  inspiration. 

"Did  ye  mind  tae  wauken  Walsh?"  he  whis- 
pered. "  If  not,  ye  ken  he  micht  weel  — 

The  captain  lowered  his  glasses,  and  nodded. 

"He  might  be  one,"  he  agreed;  "but  there  are 
four  men  on  deck."  He  raised  his  binoculars 
again.  "  Yes,  there  they  are.  Well,  whoever  they 
are  and  whatever  the  game  is,  we  must  get  on 
board  again  and  do  the  job  properly  this  time. 

—  Hallo,  one  of  them  is  running  below !  —  Here 
he  is  again!  —  He's  carrying  something — flags, 
I  reckon.    They're  going  to  signal  us." 

He  was  right.  Up  to  the  topmost  summit  of 
the  Orinoco's  grimy  foremast  towelled  a  signal 

—  a  banner  with  a  strange  device  indeed,  but 
conveying  a  perfectly  intelligible  message  for  all 
that.     It  consisted  of  the  nether  or  unmention- 
able portion  of  a  ragged  suit  of  orange-and-red 
striped  pyjamas. 

Having  reached  its  destination,  it  inflated  itself 
in  the  freshening  breeze  and  streamed  out,  de- 


156  FORTITER  IN  RE 

fiant  and  derisive,  in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun ; 
flinging  to  the  fermenting  couple  in  the  whale- 
boat  the  simple  but  comprehensive  intimation  — 
"Sold!" 

Then,  with  one  single  joyous  toot  from  her 
siren,  the  Orinoco  altered  her  course  a  couple  of 
points  and  wallowed  off  in  a  north-easterly  direc- 
tion, leaving  the  crew  of  the  whale-boat  to  listen 
in  admiring  silence  to  a  sulphurous  antistrophe 
in  two  dialects  proceeding  from  the  stern-sheets. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  END  OF  AN  ODYSSEY 

HUGHIE  reckoned  that  they  might  have  to 
steam  eastward  for  quite  three  or  four  days  be- 
fore they  sighted  land. 

This  was  an  underestimate. 

The  history  of  the  Orinoco's  last  voyage  will 
never  be  written.  In  the  first  place,  those  who 
took  part  in  it  were  none  of  them  men  who  were 
addicted  to  the  composition  of  travellers'  tales; 
and  in  the  second,  their  recollections  of  the  course 
of  events  when  all  was  over,  were  hopelessly 
and  rather  mercifully  blurred.  Not  that  they 
minded.  One  derives  no  pleasure  or  profit  from 
reconstructing  a  nightmare  —  especially  when  it 
has  lasted  for  sixteen  days  and  nights. 

Some  events,  of  course,  were  focussed  more 
sharply  in  their  memories  than  others.  There 
was  that  eternity  of  thirty-six  hours  during  which 
the  Orinoco,  with  every  vulnerable  orifice  sealed 
up  or  battened  down,  her  asthmatic  engines  puls- 
ing just  vigorously  enough  to  keep  her  head  be- 
fore the  wind,  rode  out  a  north-easterly  gale 
which  blew  her  many  miles  out  of  her  reckoning. 
("Not  that  that  matters  much,"  said  her  philo- 


158  FORTITER  IN  RE 

sophic  commander.  "We  don't  know  where  we 
are  now,  it's  true ;  but  then  we  did  n't  know  where 
we  were  before,  so  what's  the  odds?  We'll  keep 
on  steering  away  about  north-east,  and  as  we  are 
aiming  at  a  target  eight  hundred  miles  wide  we 
ought  to  hit  it  somewhere.")  Then  there  was  a 
palpitating  night  when  the  faithful  engines,  hav- 
ing wheezily  but  unceasingly  performed  their 
allotted  task  for  a  period  long  enough  to  lull  all 
who  depended  upon  them  into  an  optimistic  frame 
of  mind,  broke  down  utterly  and  absolutely ;  and 
the  fires  had  to  be  banked  and  the  Orinoco  al- 
lowed to  wallow  unrestrainedly  in  the  trough  of 
the  sea  while  the  entire  ship's  company,  with 
cracking  muscles  and  heart-breaking  gasps,  re- 
leased a  jammed  crosshead  from  the  guides  and 
took  down  a  leaky  cylinder. 

They  were  evidently  out  of  the  ordinary  sea- 
lanes,  for  they  sighted  only  one  steamer  in  ten 
days,  and  her  they  allowed  to  go  by. 

"None  of  us  understand  proper  signalling," 
said  Hughie,  "so  we  can't  attract  her  attention 
without  doing  something  absurdly  theatrical, 
like  running  up  the  ensign  upside  down;  and 
I'm  hanged  if  we'll  do  that  —  yet.  After  all,  we 
only  want  to  know  where  we  are.  We  may  be 
just  off  the  coast  of  Ireland  for  all  I  can  say,  and 
it  does  seem  feeble  to  bring  a  liner  out  of  her 
course  to  ask  her  footling  questions.  It  would 


THE  END  OF  AN   ODYSSEY      159 

be  like  stopping  the  Flying  Scotsman  to  get  a 
light  for  one's  pipe." 

"Or  asking  a  policeman  in  Piccadilly  Circus 
the  nearest  way  to  the  Criterion  bar,"  added 
Allerton.  "I'm  with  you  all  the  time,  cap- 
tain." 

And  so  these  four  mendicants  allowed  a  poten- 
tial Good  Samaritan  to  pass  by  and  sink  behind 
the  horizon.  It  was  an  action  typical  of  their 
race:  they  had  no  particular  objection  to  death, 
but  they  drew  the  line  at  being  smiled  at.  Still, 
there  were  moments  during  the  next  ten  days 
when  they  rather  regretted  their  diffidence. 

But  events  like  these  were  mere  excrescences 
in  a  plane  of  dead  monotony.  The  day's  work 
was  made  up  of  endless  hours  in  a  Gehenna-like 
stokehold,  where  with  aching  backs  and  bleeding 
hands  they  laboured  to  feed  the  insatiable  fires, 
or  crawled  along  tunnel-like  bunkers  in  search 
of  the  gradually  receding  coal ;  spells  at  the  wheel 
—  sometimes  lashed  to  it  —  in  biting  wind  or 
blinding  fog;  the  whole  sustained  on  a  diet  of 
ship's  biscuit,  salt  pork,  and  lukewarm  coffee, 
tempered  by  brief  but  merciful  intervals  of  the 
slumber  of  utter  exhaustion. 

Still,  one  can  get  used  to  anything.  They  even 
enjoyed  themselves  after  a  fashion.  High  en- 
deavour counts  for  something,  whether  you  have 
a  wife  and  family  dependent  upon  you,  like  Walsh, 


160  FORTITER  IN  RE 

or  can  extract  la  joie  de  vivre  out  of  an  eighteen- 
hour  day  and  a  workhouse  diet,  like  Hughie. 

And  they  got  to  know  each  other,  thoroughly, 
—  a  privilege  denied  to  most  in  these  days  of 
restless  activity  and  multifarious  acquaintance. 

It  was  a  lasting  wonder  to  Hughie  how  Allerton 
could  ever  have  fallen  to  his  present  estate;  for 
he  displayed  an  amount  of  energy,  endurance, 
and  initiative  during  this  manhood- testing  voyage 
that  was  amazing.  He  himself  ascribed  his  virtue 
to  want  of  opportunity  to  practise  anything  else, 
but  this  was  obviously  too  modest  an  explanation. 
Perhaps  blood  always  tells.  At  any  rate,  Allerton 
took  unquestioned  rank  as  second  in  command 
over  the  heads  of  two  men  whose  technical  know- 
ledge and  physical  strength  far  exceeded  his  own. 
But  in  his  hours  of  ease  —  few  enough  now  — 
he  was  as  easy-going  and  flippant  and  casual  as 
ever. 

Walsh  in  a  sense  was  the  weakest  of  the  quar- 
tet. He  was  a  capable  engineer  and  an  honest 
man,  but  he  lacked  the  devil-may-care  non- 
chalance of  the  other  three;  for  he  had  a  wife 
and  eight  children  waiting  for  him  in  distant 
Limehouse,  and  a  fact  like  that  gives  a  man  a 
distaste  for  adventure.  He  was  a  disappointed 
man,  too.  He  had  held  a  chief  engineer's  "ticket" 
for  seven  years,  but  he  had  never  held  a  chief 
engineer's  billet.  He  could  never  afford  to  knock 


THE  END   OF  AN  ODYSSEY      161 

off  work  and  wait  until  the  right  berth  should 
come  his  way :  he  must  always  take  the  first  that 
offered,  for  fear  that  the  tale  of  boots  and  bread 
in  Limehouse  should  diminish.  As  a  crowning 
stroke  of  ill-luck,  he  had  been  paid  off  from  his 
last  job  because  his  ship  had  collided  with  a  New 
York  lighter  and  been  compelled  to  go  into  dry 
dock  for  three  months;  and  by  shipping  in  the 
Orinoco  he  was  barely  doing  more  than  work 
his  passage  home.  His  ten-year-old  dream  of 
delivering  Mrs.  Walsh  from  her  wash-tub  for  all 
time,  and  exalting  her  from  the  res  angustoe  of 
Teak  Street,  Limehouse,  to  a  social  environment 
reserved  exclusively  for  the  wives  of  chief  engi- 
neers, seemed  as  far  from  fulfilment  as  ever. 
Still,  he  maintained  a  stiff  upper  lip  and  kept  his 
watch  like  a  man,  which  is  more  than  most  of  us 
would  have  done  under  the  circumstances. 

But  it  was  Goble  who  interested  Hughie  most. 
In  the  long  night-watches,  as  they  swung  the 
heavy  fire-shovels  in  the  stokehold,  or  heaved 
the  ever-accumulating  clinkers  over  the  side,  or 
took  turn  and  turn  about  to  gulp  tepid  water 
out  of  a  sooty  bucket,  or  met  over  a  collation  of 
coffee  and  ship's  biscuit  —  the  supper  of  one  and 
the  breakfast  of  the  other  —  in  the  galley,  Goble 
would  let  fall  dry  pawky  reflections  on  life  in 
general,  with  autobiographical  illustrations,  which 
enabled  Hughie  to  piece  together  a  fairly  com- 


162  FORTITER  IN  RE 

prehensive  idea  of  his  companion's  previous  ex- 
istence. 

John  Alexander  Goble  had  played  many  parts 
in  his  time,  like  most  vagrants.  He  had  been 
born  a  gamekeeper's  son  in  Renfrewshire,  and 
had  lost  his  father  early,  that  devoted  upholder 
of  proprietary  rights  having  been  shot  through 
the  head  in  a  poaching  affray.  After  this  ca- 
tastrophe the  widow,  who  had  openly  pined  for 
her  native  Glasgow  during  the  whole  of  her  hus- 
band's lifetime,  had  returned  to  that  municipal 
paradise;  and  the  ripening  youth  of  John  Alex- 
ander Goble  had  been  passed  in  a  delectable 
locality,  known  as  "The  Coocaddens,"  to  which 
he  could  never  refer  without  a  gleam  of  tender 
reminiscence  in  his  eyes. 

Why  John  Alexander  had  ever  deserted  this 
Eden  Hughie  could  never  rightly  ascertain.  His 
references  to  that  particular  epoch  in  his  career 
were  invariably  obscure;  but  since  he  darkly 
observed  on  one  occasion  that  "weemen  can  mak' 
a  gowk  o'  the  best  man  leevin',' '  Hughie  gathered 
that  Mr.  Goble's  present  course  of  life  owed  its 
origin  to  a  tender  but  unsatisfactory  episode  in 
the  dim  and  distant  days  of  his  hot  youth. 

"After  that,"  John  would  continue  elliptically, 
"I  went  tae  Motherwell.  D'  ye  ken  Motherwell  ? 
A  grand  place !  Miles  and  miles  of  blast-furnaces, 
and  the  sky  lit  up  day  and  nicht,  like  the  Last 


THE  END   OF  AN  ODYSSEY      163 

Judgment.  I  did  a  wheen  odd  jobs  there.  Whiles 
I  would  hurl  a  trolley  wi'  coke,  whiles  I  would 
sort  coal  wi'  some  lassies,  and  at  last  I  got  a  job 
as  a  moulder." 

"What's  that?"  inquired  the  ever-receptive 
Hughie. 

"What  else  but  a  body  that  makes  moulds?" 

"Yes,  but  how  does  he  do  it?" 

"  WTeel,  there's  a  sort  o'  sandy  place  at  the  fit  o' 
each  smelting-furnace  —  like  a  bit  sea-shore,  ye '11 
understand  —  and  every  four-and-twenty  hours 
they  cast  the  furnace.  They  let  oot  the  melted 
ore,  that  is,  and  it  rins  doon  intil  moulds  that  hae 
been  made  in  the  sand.  (Ye  dae  it  by  just  buryin' 
baulks  o'  timber  in  rows  and  then  pickin '  them  oot 
again,  and  the  stuff  rins  intil  the  hollows  that  have 
been  left.  When  it's  cauld  they  ca'  it  pig-iron.) 
Well,  I  stuck  tae  that  job  for  a  matter  o'  sax 
months.  But  it  was  drouthy  work,  besides  bein' 
haird  on  the  feet,  —  you  go  scratch-scratching  in 
the  sand  wi'  your  bare  soles  makin'  the  moulds, — 
and  presently  I  gave  it  up  and  took  tae  daen'  odd 
jobs  among  the  trucks  and  engines  in  the  yairds. 
I  liked  that  fine,  for  machinery  is  the  yin  thing 
that  really  excites  me.  First  I  was  a  coupler,  then 
I  was  a  fireman,  then  I  got  tae  drivin'  a  wee 
shunting  engine,  dunting  trucks  about  the  yaird. 
And  at  last  I  was  set  in  charge  o'  a  winding-en- 
gine at  a  pit-heid.  That  was  a  grand  job ;  but  it 


164  FORTITER  IN  RE 

didna  last  long.  I  was  drinkin'  haird  by  this  time 
—  I'd  stairtit  after  I  left  the  Coocaddens  —  and 
yin'  day  I  was  that  fou'  I  let  the  cage  gang  doon 
wi'  a  run  tae  the  bottom  o'  the  shaft." 

"Was  there  anybody  in  the  cage?"  inquired 
Hughie,  as  Goble  paused,  as  if  to  contemplate 
some  mental  picture. 

"  There  was  not,  thank  God !  But  there  was  a 
bit  laddie  doon  ablow  in  the  pit,  that  was  sittin'  on 
his  hutch  —  his  truck,  that  is  —  at  the  fit  o'  the 
shaft,  waitin'  on  the  cage.  He  wasna  expectin'  the 
thing  tae  fall  doon  like  a  daud  o'  putty,  so  he  was 
no'  sittin'  quite  clear ;  and  the  cage  cam'  doon  and 
took  off  baith  his  feet.  Man,  I  hae  never  forgot- 
ten his  mither's  face  when  they  brought  him  up. 
I  lost  ma  job,  and  I  hae  never  touched  a  drop 
since.  For  seven-and-twenty  years  have  I  been 
on  the  teetotal  —  seven-and-twenty  years!  It'll 
shorten  ma  life,  I  doot,"  he  added  gloomily;  "but 
I'll  bide  by  it!" 

"What  became  of  the  boy?"  inquired  Hughie. 

"He's  gotten  twa  wooden  feet  the  noo,"  re- 
plied Goble  more  cheerfully,  "and  he's  been 
minding  the  lamp-room  this  twenty  year.  I've 
heard  frae  him  noo  and  again,  and  we've  always 
been  freens;  but  his  auld  mither  has  never  for- 
given me.  She's  ower  seventy  the  day,  but  Jeems 
tells  me  she  aye  lets  a  curse  every  time  he  men- 
tions ma  name." 


THE  END   OF  AN   ODYSSEY      165 

A  further  instalment  of  Mr.  Goble's  adventures 
explained  how  he  took  to  the  sea. 

"After  I  cleared  oot  o'  Motherwell  I  went  to 
the  Clydeside.  I  was  a  fair  enough  mechanic  by 
this  time,  but  I  had  tak'n  a  sort  o'  skunner  at 
machinery  —  no  wi'oot  some  reason  —  and  I  tried 
for  to  get  taken  on  as  a  dock-hand.  I  had  no  luck 
there,  and  I  was  fair  starvin'  when  yin  day  I  met 
a  freend  o'  min'  on  the  Dumbarton  Road,  and  he 
asked  me  would  I  like  tae  wash  dishes  and  peel 
potaties  on  a  passenger  steamer.  I  would  hae 
been  pleased  tae  soop  the  lums  o'  muckle  Hell 
by  that  time,  gin  it  was  for  a  wage,  I  was  that 
thrawn  wi'  hunger;  so  I  jist  said,  "Deed  ay!' 

"For  a  hale  summer  I  sat  peelin'  potaties  and 
washin'  dishes  on  board  the  Electra,  her  that  has 
done  a  trip  doon  the  watter,  roond  about  Arran 
and  Bute,  and  hame  by  Skelmorlie  ilka  day  o'  the 
summer  season  for  twenty-twa  years.  When  the 
winter  cam'  on  I  dooted  I  would  be  oot  o'  a  job 
again;  but  bein'  nowadays  permanently  on  the 
teetotal,  and  varra  dependable,  I  was  shifted 
tae  the  auld  Stornoway,  o'  the  same  line,  carryin' 
goods,  cattle,  and  passengers  tae  the  West  High- 
lands —  Coll,  Tiree,  Barra,  Uist,  Ullapool,  and 
a  wheen  places  in  and  oot  o'  sea-lochs  up  and  doon 
that  coast.  She  loused  frae  the  Broomielaw  every 
Thursday  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and 
she  was  back  there,  week  in  week  out,  summer 


166  FORTITER  IN  RE 

and  winter,  by  eleven  in  the  forenoon  o'  the  follow- 
ing Wednesday.  The  folk  along  by  Largs,  where 
her  cap'n  lived,  used  tae  set  their  watches  by  her. 
She  was  a  fine  auld  boat,  the  Stornoway :  she  piled 
herself  up  on  the  rocks  below  the  Scuir  of  Eig, 
where  she  had  no  call  tae  be,  in  a  snowstorm  seven 
winters  syne.  I  was  a  cabin  steward  nowadays, 
ye '11  unnerstand ;  and  once  we  were  roond  the  Mull 
and  the  passengers  had  thrawn  up  what  they'd 
had  tae  their  tea  off  Gourock  and  tak'n  a  dander 
ashore  at  Oban,  appetites  was  big  and  I  was  busy. 
It  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  the  gentry  at  their 
meals,  and  it  improved  my  mainners  considerable. 
Never  since  then  have  I  skailed  ma  tea  intil  ma 
saucer :  I  jist  gie  a  bit  blow  on  it  noo.  Yon's  Mr. 
Allerton  roarin*  for  to  be  relieved  at  the  wheel." 

On  another  occasion  Goble  explained  how  he 
came  to  forsake  the  fleshpots  of  the  Stornoway 
and  take  to  the  high  seas. 

"I  was  aye  hankerin',  hankerin'  after  the 
machinery,"  he  explained.  "A  body  canna  serve 
tables  all  his  life.  So  after  twa^years  on  the  Storn- 
oway I  shippit  as  a  fireman  on  a  passenger  steamer 
outward  bound  frae  Glasgow  tae  Bilbao.  There 
I  left  her,  tae  be  second  engineer  on  a  wee  tramp 
carrying  iron-ore  tae  the  Mediterranean.  That 
was  nigh  twenty  years  ago,  and  I've  never  set 
fit  in  Scotland  since.  Weel,  weel !  Aha !  Mphm !" 
(Ad  lib.  and  da  capo.) 


THE  END   OF  AN  ODYSSEY     167 

So  he  would  discourse,  in  a  manner  which  passed 
many  a  weary  hour  for  both,  and  added  consider- 
ably to  Hughie's  stock  of  human  knowledge. 

The  days  wore  on.  The  work  and  long  hours 
were  beginning  to  tell  their  tale,  but  the  entire 
crew  kept  grimly  to  it.  Their  nerves  were  in  good 
order  too.  Even  when,  on  the  morning  of  the 
sixteenth  day,  as  they  groped  their  way  through 
a  streaming  wet  fog,  a  great  ghostly  monster  of  a 
liner  suddenly  loomed  out  of  the  wrack,  and,  as 
she  shouldered  her  way  past  them,  actually  scraped 
the  starboard  counter  with  her  stern,  while  the 
look-out  on  her  forward  deck  yelled  frantically, 
and  a  frightened  man  up  aloft  on  the  bridge  flung 
his  wheel  over  with  great  rattling  of  steam  steer- 
ing-gear to  avoid  a  collision,  the  sole  occupant 
of  the  Orinoco's  deck  —  it  was  Goble :  he  was 
steering  while  Hughie  and  Walsh  took  their  turn 
in  the  stokehold  and  Allerton  slept  —  did  not 
deem  the  occasion  sufficiently  important  to  merit 
a  report  until  he  was  relieved  from  duty  two  hours 
later. 

But  this  encounter  provided  that  pawky  philo- 
sopher with  a  valuable  clue  as  to  their  where- 
abouts. 

"She  was  a  Ben  liner,"  he  intimated  to  Hughie 
in  describing  the  event.  "  I  saw  the  twa  bit  stripes 
roond  her  funnel,  and  her  name,  Ben  Cruachan, 
on  her  stern.  They're  Glasgow  boats,  and  sail 


168  FORTITER  IN  RE 

every  other  Thursday  tae  Buenos  Ayres,  calling 
at  Moville  on  Lough  Foyle  tae  tak'  up  Irish  pas- 
sengers. It's  no'  near  Cape  Clear  we  are,  any- 
way. We're  somewhere  off  the  north  coast  o* 
Ireland,  sir.  I  kenned  fine  we  were  near  land: 
this  is  a  ground  swell  that's  throwin'  us  aboot 
noo.  Aiblins  we'll  be  gettin'  a  dunt  against  the 
Giant's  Causeway  if  we're  no'  canny." 

There  was  something  in  Goble's  conclusions, 
for  after  they  had  steamed  dead  slow  all  night 
the  rising  sun  licked  up  the  fog;  and  there,  ten 
miles  to  the  south  of  them,  lay  a  long  green  sea- 
coast;  and  straight  before  them  uprose  what 
looked  like  a  rocky  island,  with  a  homely-looking 
white  lighthouse  perched  half-way  up  its  rugged 
face. 

"If  that  land  to  the  right  is  Ireland,"  said 
Hughie,  "we  can't  be  very  far  from  Scotland.  I 
wonder  what  that  great  rock  ahead  of  us  can  be. 
Lucky  we  did  n't  reach  it  a  couple  of  hours  ago !" 

"Don't  you  think,"  suggested  Allerton,  put- 
ting his  head  out  of  the  engine-room  hatchway, 
"  that  as  we  have  a  pukka  Scot  on  board,  we  had 
better  rouse  him  up  and  see  if  he  can  identify  his 
native  land?" 

It  was  Goble's  turn  for  sleep,  but  Allerton 's  sug- 
gestion was  adopted,  and  he  was  haled  on  deck. 

"Do  you  happen  to  recognise  that  island 
straight  ahead,  Mr.  Goble  ?"  inquired  Hughie. 


THE  END  OF  AN  ODYSSEY     169 

Goble  surveyed  the  rock  and  the  lighthouse, 
and  though  his  countenance  remained  unmoved, 
his  eye  lit  up  with  proprietary  pride. 

"Island?  Yon's  no'  an  island,"  he  replied. 
"  'T  is  Scotland  hersel'.  Sir,  't  is  the  Mull  o'  Kin- 
tyre!  It  rins  straight  awa'  back  tae  Argyllshire. 
We're  at  the  varra  mouth  o'  the  Clyde.  We  micht 
hae  been  drawed  there  across  the  Atlantic  by  a 
bit  string!  God  presairve  us,  it's  a  miracle!" 

"The  Clyde  ?"  shouted  Hughie.  It  seemed  too 
utterly  good  to  be  true.  "  Are  you  sure,  Goble  ? 
Is  that  really  the  Mull  ?" 

"Sure  ?"  Goble's  expression  was  a  mixture  of 
pity  and  resentment.  "Man,  I'm  tellin'  ye  I 
sailed  roond  it  twice  a  week  for  the  best  pairt  o' 
twa  years.  I  was  awfu'  sick  the  first  time.  The 
second  — " 

All  this  time  the  Mull  of  Kintyre  was  growing 
nearer. 

"What's  the  course?"  queried  Walsh,  leaning 
over  the  bridge.  "Do  I  turn  up  New  Cut,  Mr. 
Goble,  or  keep  straight  along  the  Blackfr'ars 
Road?" 

Everybody's  spirits  were  soaring  marvellously 
at  the  sight  of  the  blessed  green  land.  Walsh's 
wife  was  within  twenty-four  hours  of  him. 

"Keep  yon  heap  o'  stanes  on  your  left  hand, 
ma  mannie,"  replied  the  greatly  inflated  Goble, 
facetiously  indicating  the  towering  headland  be- 


170  FORTITER  IN  RE 

fore  them,  "and  then  straight  on  Ailsa  Craig. 
You're  daen'  fine.  Mr.  Marrable,  will  you  rin  her 
up  tae  the  Tail  o'  the  Bank,  off  Greenock,  or  gi'e 
a  cry  in  at  Campbeltown  Bay  ?  It's  jist  roond 
the  corner." 

"Hang  it!  we'll  take  her  all  the  way,  now  we 
have  got  so  far,"  said  Hughie.  "We're  home! 
I  was  reckoning  on  bringing  up  in  Plymouth 
Sound;  but  that's  a  detail.  Come  on,  Allerton, 
let's  go  below  and  fire  up  for  the  last  time.  We'll 
bring  her  in  in  style!" 

And  so  it  came  about  that  not  many  hours 
later  the  Orinoco,  a  rotting  hulk,  clogged  with 
weed,  corroded  with  rust,  caked  with  salt,  feebly 
churning  up  the  water  with  her  debilitated  pro- 
peller, steamed  painfully  but  grandly  past  the 
Cloch  Light  and  into  the  mouth  of  the  Clyde.  A 
sorry  object  she  may  have  seemed  to  the  butter- 
fly host  of  natty  paddle-steamers  which  was 
pouring  down  the  river  under  the  forced  draught 
of  triple  competition,  carrying  the  Glasgow  man, 
released  from  office,  to  Dunoon  and  Rothesay 
and  other  summer  repositories  for  wife  and 
family.  But  to  those  who  knew,  she  was  no  un- 
cleanly tramp,  but  a  battle-scarred  veteran,  —  a 
ship  that  had  deserved  well  of  the  Republic  of 
the  high  seas,  —  another  little  Golden  Hind, 
though  laden  with  nothing  nearer  to  Spanish  in- 
gots than  bottles  of  imitation  French  claret.  Every 


THE   END  OF  AN   ODYSSEY     171 

scar  on  her  sides  was  an  honourable  wound; 
every  groan  and  creak  that  rose  from  her  start- 
ing timbers  a  paean ;  every  cough  and  wheeze  that 
proceeded  from  her  leaky  cylinders  a  prayer  of 
joyful  thanks.  The  Orinoco  had  graduated  high 
in  the  nameless  but  glorious  band  of  those  who 
have  illustrated,  not  altogether  without  profit  and 
pride,  the  homely  truth  that 

Life  ain't  holdin'  good  cards; 
It's  playin'  a  poor  hand  well! 

And  so  she  turned  the  last  corner  of  her  long 
and  painful  Odyssey,  and  came  home  to  lay  up 
her  bones  by  the  Clyde,  which  had  given  them 
birth.  And  by  a  happy  chance  the  unconscious 
Hughie,  instead  of  navigating  her  to  the  Tail  of 
the  Bank  as  he  had  intended,  changed  his  mind, 
put  over  his  helm,  and  conned  her  up  to  the  head 
of  that  beautiful  Gareloch  which,  many  many 
years  ago,  had  given  the  little  ship  her  maiden 
name. 

There,  swinging  at  her  rusty  cable,  with  the 
clear  green  water  laving  her  weary  forefoot,  and 
the  hills  above  Roseneath  and  Shandon  smiling 
reassuringly  down  upon  her  in  the  glow  of  the 
evening  sun,  we  will  leave  her.  Molliter  ossa 
cubentl 

The  law's  delays  are  proverbial,  and  the  task  of 
getting  even  with  Mr.  Noddy  Kinahan  involved 


172  FORTITER  IN  RE 

Hughie  in  endless  encounters  with  those  in  high 
places,  several  appearances  (with  suite)  in  the 
abodes  of  the  Law,  and  another  trip  to  New 
York  —  by  Cunarder  this  time. 

However,  grim  determination  will  accomplish 
most  things ;  and  when  some  months  later  Hughie 
finally  sailed  from  New  York  for  his  native  land, 
the  labour  of  love  had  been  completed,  and  Mr. 
Noddy  Kinahan  was  duly  regretting,  for  a  term 
of  years,  the  fact  that  he  had  ever  been  born. 

This  consummation  was  followed  by  another, 
depressing  but  inevitable.  The  Orinoco  Salvage 
Company,  having  served  its  purpose,  paid  Na- 
ture's debt  and  ceased  to  exist.  The  circum- 
stances connected  with  its  demise,  together  with 
the  respective  fates  of  Hughie's  little  band  of  Argo- 
nauts, will  best  be  gathered  from  the  following 
epistolary  excerpts :  — 

No.  I  (N.  B.    Spelling  corrected) 

%  MISTRESS  HOWIESON, 
17  CANDLJSH  STREET,  GREENOCK. 

To  H.  MARRABLE,  Esq. :  — 

SIR,  —  I  thank  you  for  cheque,  and  have  dis- 
posed of  same.  I  also  thank  you  for  offer  to  find 
a  job  for  me.  But  I  would  prefer  to  bide  by  you, 
as  I  feel  I  will  not  get  a  better  job  than  that.  I 
would  like  fine  to  be  your  servant.  You  will  be 
needing  some  one  to  redd  up  your  quarters  and 


THE  END   OF  AN  ODYSSEY      173 

keep  your  clothes  sorted,  now  you  are  ashore. 
(Women  is  no'  to  be  trusted.)  Of  course  I  would 
not  want  a  big  wage :  the  siller  from  the  Orinoco 
will  do  grandly  for  a  long  time.  I  ken  fine  the 
way  to  wait  at  table  and  clean  silver,  having  been 
steward,  as  I  once  telled  you,  on  the  old  Storno- 
way,  where  they  had  a  cuddy  full  of  gentry  every 
trip.  —  Your  servant  (I  am  hoping) , 

JNO.  ALEX.  GOBLE. 

No.   II 

(Extracts.    No  date  or  address,  but  obviously 
written  in  a  public-house) 

...  So  you  must  take  the  money  back.  It  is 
no  use  to  me :  all  I  should  get  out  of  it  would  be 
a  d — d  bad  headache.  Also,  it  might  give  me 
ideas  above  my  station,  which  is  bad  for  the  lower 
orders  at  any  time.  Give  it  to  Walsh ;  but  don't 
let  on,  of  course,  that  it  comes  from  me :  let  him 
believe  that  it  is  part  of  his  natural  share  of  the  sal- 
vage. I  have  kept  back  enough  to  pay  for  a  new 
suit  (which  I  am  now  wearing)  and  one  big  bust 
before  I  sail  next  week  as  deck  steward  on  an 
Aberdeen  liner. 

.  .  .  Well,  it  was  a  great  trip.  We  have  all  got 
something  out  of  it.  You  have  got  an  adventure 
and  incidentally  done  a  big  thing,  and  I  have 
spent  a  month  of  absolute  happiness  in  the  so- 
ciety of  men  who  regarded  me  neither  as  an  ob- 


174  FORTITER  IN  RE 

ject  of  pity  nor  as  a  monster  of  depravity,  but 
were  content  to  let  me  go  my  own  way  as  a  man 
who  prefers  to  live  his  own  life  and  be  asked  no 
questions.  .  .  .  Your  offer  to  set  me  on  my 
legs  again  and  make  me  a  respectable  member  of 
society  is  friendly  and,  I  suppose,  natural;  but 
it  threatens  a  happy  episode  with  a  sad  ending. 
I'm  not  cut  out  for  conventionality,  and  (pace 
your  kind  references  to  my  "sterling  merit  and 
latent  force  of  character")  I  am  not  of  the  stuff 
that  successful  men  are  made  of.  I  have  only 
done  two  big  things  in  my  life.  One  was  getting 
elected  to  Pop  at  Eton,  the  other  was  helping 
you  to  bring  the  old  Orinoco  home.  I  think  I'll 
rest  on  my  laurels  now.  I  suppose  I  was  born  a 
rotter,  and  if  you  were  to  endeavour  to  raise  me 
to  your  giddy  heights  I  should  only  fall  down 
again,  and  the  bump  at  the  bottom  might  hurt.  I 
am  safer  where  I  am :  the  beauty  of  lying  on  the 
floor  is  that  you  can't  fall  off. 

.  .  .  Well,  chin,  chin!  If  I  may  be  permitted 
to  gush  for  a  moment,  I  should  like  to  tell  you  that 
you  are  a  good  sort.  —  Yours  ever, 

LIONEL  ALLERTON. 

No.  Ill 

No.  4  TEAK  ST.,  LIMEHOUSE. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  beg  to  acknowledge  with  thanks 
your  cheque  for  share  of  salvage.  It  was  far  more 


THE  END  OF  AN  ODYSSEY      175 

than  I  expected,  and  the  Adm'ty  C'ts  have  cer- 
tainly done  well  by  us.  At  the  best,  I  had  hoped 
for  suffic'nt  to  rig  out  the  nippers  with  boots  and 
duds  for  the  winter  and  give  the  missis  a  week 
or  two  off  the  laundry  work.  We  have  all  been 
fair  barmy  the  last  few  days.  Square  meals  and 
a  big  fire,  and  you  can't  hear  yours' If  talk  for 
the  squeaking  of  the  new  boots.  We  are  settling 
down  a  bit  now,  and  I  have  put  the  rest  of  the 
money  in  the  bank  and  told  the  old  woman  she 
is  to  burn  her  wash-tubs.  Catch  her :  I  d'n't  think ! 
With  my  new  clothes  I  have  obt'd  a  berth  as 
Chief  on  board  s.s.  Batavia,  of  the  Imperial  Line, 
and  sail  on  21st  inst.  Her  engines  are  (several 
lines  of  hopeless  technicalities  omitted).  It  was  a 
lucky  day  for  me  when  I  struck  the  Orinoco,  and 
luckier  when  Angus  doctored  my  grog. 

On  returning  from  voyage  will  take  the  lib'ty 
of  calling  on  you  in  London  at  the  address  you 
gave.  —  Yrs.  respect'fly, 

JAS.  WALSH 

(Chief  Engineer  s.s.  Batavia). 
POSTSCRIPT   (In  a  larger  and  leas  educated  hand) 

MR.  MARRABLE,  DEAR  SIR,  —  The  children 
and  me  begs  to  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness  to 
father.  Father  he  is  very  greatful  himself,  but 
would  rather  leave  it  to  me  to  tell  you,  as  he  don't 
like.  Mr.  Marrable,  sir,  if  you  could  only  see  the 


176  FORTITER  IN  RE 

diff'nce  in  the  children,  espec'ly  little  Albert, 
what  was  always  sickly,  since  they  got  good 
boots  and  food  inside  them  you  would  feel  well 
paid  for  your  kindness.  I  know  the  money  did 
not  come  from  you,  but  it  was  through  you  we 
got  it.  God  bless  you,  sir.  —  Yours  resp'fly, 
MRS.  MARTHA  WALSH. 

P.  S.  —  Our  ninth,  which  has  just  come,  we 
are  taking  the  liberty  to  call  by  your  name. 


BOOK  THREE 

SUAVITER  IN  MODO 


CHAPTER  XI 

SEALED  ORDERS 

ON  a  bright  morning  in  April  Hughie  emerged 
from  the  offices  of  Messrs.  Slocum,  Spink,  and 
Slocum,  Solicitors,  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  and 
made  for  the  Strand. 

Like  most  men  who  have  been  abroad  for  a 
long  time,  he  trod  the  streets  of  London  with 
an  oddly  mingled  sensation  of  familiarity  and 
strangeness.  At  one  moment  he  felt  that  he  had 
been  living  in  London  for  years,  at  another  he 
felt  that  he  was  exploring  a  new  city.  The  Strand 
itself,  save  for  the  old  congested  stretch  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Charing  Cross,  was  almost 
unrecognisable.  Gone  for  ever  were  the  various 
landmarks  of  his  youth,  such  as  the  Old  Gaiety 
and  the  Lowther  Arcade.  Holywell  Street  and 
Wych  Street,  with  their  delectable  environs,  had 
vanished  like  a  bad  but  interesting  dream,  leav- 
ing room  for  a  broad  and  stately  thoroughfare, 
in  the  midst  of  which  the  churches  of  St.  Mary 
and  St.  Clement  Danes  split  the  traffic  like  boul- 
ders in  a  Highland  spate,  and  the  Law  Courts 
acquired  an  unfamiliar  prominence.  A  new  fair- 
way of  uncanny  width  and  straightness  clove  its 


180  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

course  to  Holborn,  blocked  at  its  mouth  by  a 
dismal  patch  of  excavated  territory  resembling 
nothing  so  much  as  what  Scotsmen  term  a  "free 
toom,"  and  proclaiming  to  all  and  sundry,  by 
means  of  a  gigantic  notice-board,  that  This  Site 
was  To  Let  as  a  Whole. 

The  traffic  had  developed  too.  There  were 
countless  motor-buses,  which  shook  the  earth 
and  smelt  to  heaven ;  and  taxicabs,  which  skipped 
like  rams  and  quacked  like  ducks. 

But  after  all,  though  landmarks  change  their 
bearings  and  banks  be  washed  away,  the  stream 
flows  on  unchanged.  The  people  were  the  same, 
and  Hughie  felt  comforted.  The  smell  of  asphalt 
was  the  same,  and  he  felt  uplifted.  And  when 
he  beheld  the  torrents  of  traffic  that  converge  on 
the  Wellington  Street  crossing  arrest  their  courses 
seriatim  and  pile  themselves  up  in  a  manner  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  the  waters  of  Jordan, 
all  at  the  bidding  of  an  imperturbable  figure  in 
a  blue  uniform,  he  felt  that  he  was  indeed  home 
once  more. 

Presently  he  hailed  a  taxicab,  and  whizzed 
along,  exulting  like  a  child  with  a  new  toy,  to 
a  railway  station,  where  John  Alexander  Goble, 
having  previously  superintended  the  placing  of 
his  master's  luggage  in  the  train  (with  a  maxi- 
mum of  precaution  on  his  part  and  a  minimum  of 
profit  on  the  porter's),  was  waiting  to  see  him  off. 


SEALED  ORDERS  181 

Hughie  dismissed  his  retainer  to  take  charge 
of  his  newly  acquired  flat  until  his  return,  and 
having  secured  his  seat,  followed  his  invariable 
custom  and  went  forward  to  view  the  engine. 
He  noted  with  interest  that  compound  locomotives 
seemed  to  have  made  little  or  no  progress  in  the 
country's  favour,  but  that  the  prejudice  against 
high-pitched  boilers  and  six-coupled  wheels  had 
disappeared. 

He  then  made  his  way  to  the  refreshment  room, 
—  where  alone,  he  noted,  Time's  devastating 
hand  appeared  to  have  stood  still,  —  and  having 
lunched  frugally  off  something  from  under  a  glass 
dome  which  the  divinity  behind  the  counter,  in 
response  to  a  respectful  inquiry,  brusquely  de- 
scribed as  "fourpence,"  together  with  as  much 
bitter  beer  as  remained  after  the  same  damosel 
had  slapped  its  containing  vessel  playfully  down 
on  the  fingers  of  a  pimply  but  humorous  youth 
who  was  endeavouring  to  tempt  the  appetites  of 
two  wizened  sardines,  exposed  for  sale  on  a  piece 
of  toast,  with  a  hard-boiled  egg  from  a  neigh- 
bouring plate,  returned  to  his  seat  in  the  train; 
where  he  was  duly  locked  in  by  a  porter,  who 
displayed  an  amount  of  cheerful  gratitude  for 
sixpence  that  an  American  baggage-man  would 
have  considered  excessive  at  a  dollar.  Here,  with 
a  rug,  a  pipe,  and  a  quantity  of  illustrated  papers, 
most  of  which  had  come  to  birth  since  he  had 


182  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

left  England,  and  all  of  which  appeared  to  de- 
pend for  their  livelihood  on  the  exploitation  of 
the  lighter  lyric  drama,  Hughie  settled  himself 
for  a  comfortable  run  along  the  Thames  Valley. 
This  done,  he  took  two  letters  from  his  pocket. 
One  had  been  opened  already.  It  was  an  obvi- 
ously feminine  production,  and  said :  — 

"MANORS,  Monday. 

"  DEAR  HUGHIE,  —  We  are  all  thrilled  to  hear 
that  you  are  home  at  last.  You  must  come  down 
here  at  once  and  be  our  guest  until  you  have 
looked  round,  and  then  you  can  renew  all  our 
acquaintances  at  one  go.  There  are  lots  of  nice 
people  with  us  just  now,  so  come!  You  will  be 
feeling  lonely,  poor  thing,  landing  in  this  country 
after  so  many  years,  and  of  course  you  will  miss 
poor  Mr.  Marrable  sadly.  I  suppose  you  have 
heard  all  about  his  death  from  the  lawyers  by 
this  time,  or  perhaps  you  saw  it  in  the  papers  two 
years  ago. 

"  Mr.  D'Arcy  is  here ;  also  Joan,  of  course.  My 
husband,  too,  wants  to  have  the  pleasure  of  en- 
tertaining you  —  that  is,  if  you  are  prepared  not 
to  shoot  him  on  sight!  I  don't  think,  though, 
that  I  shall  be  able  to  command  your  regretful 
affections  any  more.  One  look  at  me  will  be 
sufficient  for  you.  Alas,  I  have  two  chins  and 
three  babies ! 


SEALED   ORDERS  183 

"However,  come  down  on  Saturday,  and  you 
can  size  us  all  up.  I  suppose  you  know  that  Mr. 
Marrable  asked  us  to  take  Manors  and  look  after 
Joan  until  you  or  he  came  home  again;  so  you 
won't  play  the  heavy  landlord  and  evict  us  on 
the  spot,  will  you  ?  —  Yours  ever, 

"MILDRED  LEROY." 

Hughie  put  this  epistle  away  with  a  slightly 
sentimental  sigh.  It  did  not  seem  so  very  long 
since  he  had  been  organising  May  Week  festivi- 
ties in  Miss  Mildred  Freshwater' s  honour.  Now 
—  two  chins  and  three  babies !  Eheu,  fugaces  ! 

The  other  letter  had  not  yet  been  opened,  and 
Hughie  broke  the  seal.  The  envelope  looked 
blue  and  legal,  and  its  contents  consisted  of  sev- 
eral pages  of  Jimmy  Marrable's  stiff  upright  hand- 
writing. The  date  was  nearly  three  years  old. 

"  I  am  leaving  England  again  "  —  it  began  — 
"  next  week,  and  I  doubt  very  much  if  I  shall  ever 
come  back.  It  is  not  in  the  breed  to  die  in  bed  of 
something  stuffy.  The  only  tie  that  keeps  me 
here  is  Joey,  and  she  is  too  much  occupied  at 
present  in  collecting  scalps  to  pay  much  attention 
to  the  old  ruin  who  brought  her  up.  In  about  four 
years'  time  she  may  be  fit  to  live  with  again :  at 
present  she  is  not;  and  I  refuse  point-blank  for 
the  time  being  to  play  second  fiddle  to  any  young 


184  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

cub  who  ever  wore  magenta  socks  and  a  pleated 
shirt.  I  think  it  quite  time  that  you  came  home 
and  took  her  in  hand.  Indeed,  if  you  don't  ap- 
pear on  the  scene  within  two  years,  I  have  given 
instructions  that  you  are  to  be  ferreted  out  and 
asked  to  do  so.  When  you  do  return  you  will  re- 
ceive this  letter,  in  which  I  am  going  to  set  down 
the  manner  in  which  I  wish  my  estate  to  be  ad- 
ministered on  Joey's  behalf  if  I  don't  come  back. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  must  tell  you  that  Manors 
goes  to  you  by  entail,  but  that  all  the  rest  is  Joey's, 
and  you  will  be  her  sole  trustee  and  guardian. 
Lance  is  of  age,  and  independent,  and  I  have 
disposed  of  things  in  such  a  way  that  he  can't 
possibly  interfere  with  the  management  of  Joey's 
affairs.  Secondly,  I  want  to  tell  you  something 
about  the  children  themselves. 

"  I  am  not  their  father,  though  I  very  nearly  was, 
and  though  every  old  shrew  in  the  neighbourhood 
thinks  I  am.  Their  mother  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  lovable  girl  I  have  ever  known,  and  the 
only  woman  in  the  world  I  ever  cared  a  rap  for. 
Ours  was  a  boy-and-girl  idyll,  though  I  was  ten 
years  her  senior.  I  had  known  her  ever  since  I 
could  carry  her  on  my  back,  and  it  was  always  a 
sort  of  understood  thing  between  us  that  we  were 
to  marry  each  other  when  the  time  came. 

"Till  she  was  nineteen  and  I  twenty-nine,  I 
suppose  we  were  the  happiest  couple  under  the 


SEALED  ORDERS  185 

broad  heaven.  Then  she  let  down  her  skirt  and 
put  up  her  hair  and  made  her  debut.  (I  should  say 
that  she  lived  alone  with  her  old  father,  a  retired 
East  Indian  of  the  time  of  John  Company.)  To 
her  own  surprise  and  my  great  pride  —  at  first  — 
she  caused  quite  a  sensation,  for  besides  her  face 
she  had  the  prettiest  manners  possible.  If  you 
want  to  know  what  she  was  like  you  will  find  a 
miniature  of  her  among  my  papers.  Or  perhaps 
it  would  be  simpler  to  look  at  Joey. 

"  But  now  the  trouble  began.  Irene  —  that  was 
her  name  —  soon  discovered  an  immense  appetite 
for  admiration,  which  was  quite  natural  and  ex- 
cusable. (One  can't  blame  a  girl  for  making  all 
the  runs  she  can  while  her  innings  lasts;  God 
knows,  it  is  short  enough!)  But  presently  she 
could  not  do  without  it.  She  was  always  '  asking 
for  it,'  as  they  say  nowadays.  Sometimes  she 
made  herself  rather  conspicuous,  and  people  be- 
gan to  smile  at  her.  I  ground  my  teeth,  and, 
finally,  at  the  least  suitable  moment,  I  put  my 
oar  in.  I  expostulated.  No,  I  did  n't  expostulate : 
I  simply  ordered  her  to  mend  her  ways,  and  gen- 
erally acted  the  Grand  Turk  and  proud  proprietor 
rolled  into  one.  My  word,  Hughie,  she  was  furi- 
ous !  There  had  never  been  any  definite  engage- 
ment between  us,  and  she  opened  her  defence  by 
saying  so,  pat.  It  happened  at  a  ball,  where  she 
had  been  making  herself  rather  noticeable  with 


186  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

a  seedy  ruffian  —  half  actor,  half  poet  —  called 
Gaymer,  against  whom  I  had  been  fool  enough  to 
warn  her.  She  informed  me  that  she  was  her  own 
mistress,  and  that  I  was  an  officious  busybody. 
If  I  had  had  the  sense  to  tell  her  there  and  then 
that  I  loved  her  more  than  all  the  world,  and  that 
I  was  jealous  of  the  very  ground  she  walked  on, 
—  let  alone  the  people  she  spoke  to,  - —  she  would 
have  melted  at  once,  I  swear ;  for  she  was  as  im- 
pulsive and  generous  as  a  child,  and  she  loved 
me,  too,  I  know.  If  I  had  even  lost  my  temper 
and  called  her  a  brazen  hussy,  she  would  have 
forgiven  me  in  time :  a  woman  regards  a  remark 
like  that  as  a  sort  of  compliment.  But  —  I  smiled 
indulgently,  shrugged  my  shoulders,  and  said 
that  she  would  look  at  these  things  differently 
when  she  was  older. 

"That  did  it.  Apparently  there  is  only  one 
crime  in  this  world  more  heinous  than  telling  an 
old  woman  that  she  is  old,  and  that  is  to  tell  a 
young  woman  that  she  is  young.  Irene  got  straight 
up  and  left  me  sitting,  and  went  home  without 
ever  looking  in  my  direction  again  that  night. 

"Next  day  I  called  at  her  father's  house  to 
make  my  peace.  I  was  prepared  to  admit  that  I 
had  been  an  irritating  young  cub,  and  eat  humble 
pie  generally.  But  I  was  too  late.  She  was  gone ! 
She  had  bolted,  in  some  wild  fit  of  pique  or  sen- 
timentalism,  with  that  long-haired  exponent  of 


SEALED   ORDERS  187 

Byron ism-and- water,  Lance  Gaymer,  and  had 
married  him  at  a  Registry  Office  that  very  morn- 
ing. Probably  she  had  fallen  in  with  his  proposals 
at  the  ball  —  after  her  interview  with  me. 

"Well,  Hughie,  I  would  rather  pass  over  the 
next  few  years.  I  cut  her  out  of  my  scheme  of 
things  as  completely  as  I  could,  and  went  on  my 
way.  Fortunately  you  began  to  engage  my  atten- 
tion about  that  time,  and  I  rubbed  along  somehow, 
and  finally  developed  into  the  fine  old  crusted 
fogey  that  you  know  me  to  be. 

"Ten  years  later  I  heard  from  her.  She  sent 
for  me.  I  had  never  known  where  she  was,  nor 
tried  to  find  out.  But  I  did  not  expect  to  find 
her  where  I  did.  She  was  in  a  miserable  dingy 
house  in  Bloomsbury  —  dying,  Hughie !  Her  ruf- 
fianly husband  had  left  her  after  her  second  baby 
was  born,  —  our  Joey,  that  is,  —  and  her  old 
father  had  been  dead  eight  years.  She  had  not  a 
friend  in  the  world,  and  yet  she  would  not  turn 
to  me  till  it  was  too  late.  Pride,  pride,  pride !  For 
some  years  she  had  been  struggling  on  with  a 
little  money  her  father  had  left  her,  and  which 
her  husband  had  not  been  able  to  get  hold  of, 
and  she  had  also  taken  in  lodgers.  Lodgers, 
Hughie !  It  was  only  when  she  realised  that  she 
was  going  out  for  good  that  the  thought  of  the 
kiddies'  future  began  to  frighten  her,  and  she 
sent  for  me  —  at  last ! 


188  SUAV1TER  IN  MODO 

"I  was  with  her  during  most  of  the  remaining 
three  months  of  her  life,  to  the  scandal isation  of 
virtuous  Bloomsbury.  I  wanted  to  bring  her  to 
Manors,  which  she  had  often  visited  in  her  child- 
hood, but  she  said  she  preferred  to  die  in  London ; 
and  as  she  was  obviously  going  to  die  somewhere 
pretty  soon,  I  did  not  press  the  point.  During 
that  time  we  lived  a  life  of  almost  perfect  happi- 
ness; and  when  she  finally  slipped  away,  quite 
peacefully,  —  poor  child !  she  was  barely  thirty- 
two,  —  and  I  took  the  youngsters  home  with  me, 
the  long  waste  of  years  behind  us  seemed  almost  as 
though  it  never  had  been,  so  completely  had  the 
recollection  of  it  been  wiped  out  by  the  interven- 
ing three  months.  Love  can  work  marvels, 
Hughie,  even  though  it  come  to  a  man  at  the 
very  last. 

"I  may  add  that  during  the  closing  weeks  of 
her  life  I  had  the  supreme  satisfaction  of  marry- 
ing her,  -as  we  received  undeniable  proof  that 
her  accursed  husband  had  died  in  South  Amer- 
ica. This  gives  me  a  sort  of  additional  hold  over 
Joey,  though  I  have  never  mentioned  it  to  her; 
nor  do  I  think  it  necessary,  for  I  had  rather  that 
her  attachment  to  me  remained  a  purely  senti- 
mental one,  for  the  present  at  any  rate. 

"And  now,  as  regards  the  future1.  As  I  said 
at  the  beginning  of  this  letter,  I  don't  know 
whether  I  shall  ever  come  back  from  this  trip. 


SEALED   ORDERS  189 

If  I  don't,  well  and  good:  Joey  can  take  my 
money.  If  I  do,  I  am  afraid  I  must  request  the 
use  of  it  for  myself  for  a  little  while  longer.  How- 
ever, you  will  naturally  want  me  to  fix  some  sort 
of  time-limit,  and  the  question  has  been  occupy- 
ing my  attention  a  good  deal.  My  original  idea 
was  to  make  a  kind  of  provisional  will,  leaving 
all  my  property  to  Joey,  and  entitling  her  to 
come  into  possession  automatically  in  the  event 
of  my  not  returning  within  five  years;  but  the 
lawyers  tell  me  this  arrangement  won't  work,  as 
I  have  to  be  pukka  dead  before  they  can  shell 
out.  So  I  have  fixed  it  this  way.  For  the  present 
Joey  will  want  nothing  but  her  daily  bread  and 
her  fallals  and  a  roof  to  sleep  under,  as  her  so- 
called  education  is  now  completed.  I  have  there- 
fore let  Manors  to  the  Leroys,  on  the  understan- 
ding that  the  child  is  to  live  there  with  them  for 
the  present.  (Not  that  they  required  much  per- 
suasion.) She  is  eighteen  at  the  time  of  writing 
this  letter. 

"Further,  I  have  realised  practically  all  my 
personal  estate,  and  placed  the  cash  to  your  credit 
(on  Joey's  behalf)  at  the  Law  Courts  Branch  of 
the  Home  Counties  Bank.  When  you  come  home, 
which  I  hope  will  be  soon,  I  want  you  to  take 
this  money  and  administer  it  for  her  benefit.  The 
rest  of  my  property  —  nothing  to  speak  of  in  com- 
parison —  is  set  down  and  duly  disposed  of  hi  my 


190  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

will  (which  I  have  left  in  the  hands  of  Slocum, 
Spink,  and  Slocum,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields),  and 
cannot  be  touched  until  my  death  is  authenti- 
cated. I  have  made  you  Joey's  sole  trustee  and 
guardian,  and  you  will  enter  upon  your  duties  as 
soon  as  you  get  home.  She  is  not  to  come  of 
age,  financially  speaking,  until  she  is  twenty-four. 

"That's  all,  I  think. 

"Good  luck  to  you  in  life,  Hughie!  I  can't,  I 
fear,  take  my  stand  on  the  pinnacle  of  a  suc- 
cessful career  and  shout  down  advice  to  you 
on  your  way  up ;  neither  will  I  presume  to  coun- 
sel you  as  to  your  future.  My  only  piece  of  ad- 
vice to  you  is  not  to  expect  much  in  this  world, 
and  then  you  won't  be  disappointed.  Roughly 
speaking,  there  are  only  three  things  in  life  that 
matter  —  health,  money,  and  friends.  A  woman 
once  told  me  that  the  recipe  for  perfect  happi- 
ness is  a  million  pounds  and  a  good  digestion. 
The  last,  I  admit,  is  indispensable.  Well,  you 
have  it :  the  Marrable  interior  is  dyspepsia-proof. 
The  million  pounds  you  have  not  got,  and  don't 
want.  Wealth,  after  all,  is  a  purely  relative  af- 
fair. You  can  measure  it  either  by  the  greatness 
of  what  you  have  or  the  smallness  of  what  you 
want.  All  that  a  man  needs  is  enough  of  the  first 
to  ensure  his  getting  the  second,  and  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  in  your  case  this  should  not 
be  a  matter  of  much  difficulty. 


SEALED   ORDERS  191 

"Besides,  it  is  in  the  small  needs  of  life  that 
money  really  counts.  The  yacht,  the  house  in 
town,  the  grouse  moor  —  who  wants  'em  ?  But 
the  cab  home  in  the  rain ;  the  occasional  bottle  of 
Pommery ;  the  couple  of  stalls  when  an  old  friend 
looks  you  up,  or  the  furtive  and  sympathetic 
fiver  when  his  widow  does,  —  these  are  the  things 
that  make  money  really  worth  having.  Besides, 
the  greatest  joys  are  those  you  have  to  save  up  for, 
so  a  millionaire  can  never  know  them. 

"As  for  friends  —  well,  there  are  two  classes, 
men  and  women.  Men  I  need  not  trouble  you 
about.  If  you  have  n't  acquired  the  knack  of 
handling  them  during  the  last  ten  years  you  never 
will,  and  are  no  Marrable.  Women  ?  I  give  it  up ! 
You  can't  standardise  them.  Men  are  fairly 
normal  as  a  class.  If  you  deal  straight  with  a 
man  he  will  realise  and  appreciate  the  fact,  and 
though  he  may  not  respond  by  dealing  straight 
with  you,  he  will  at  any  rate  recognise  you  for 
what  you  are  —  a  white  man.  But  you  can't 
depend  on  a  woman  to  do  that.  They  are  far 
stronger  in  their  likes  and  dislikes  than  we  are, 
and  are  hopelessly  capricious  into  the  bargain. 
My  general  experience  —  and  it  has  been  wider 
than  you  might  think  —  has  been  that,  once  a 
woman  takes  a  fancy  to  you,  you  may  run  counter 
to  every  canon  of  honesty,  sobriety,  and  common 
decency,  and  she  will  cleave  to  you  —  probably, 


192  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

I  fancy,  because  you  arouse  all  the  protective 
maternal  instinct  in  her.  On  the  other  hand, 
once  you  get  into  her  bad  books,  —  it  may  be 
because  you  deserve  it,  but  as  often  as  not  it  is 
because  you  have  hot  hands  or  once  trod  on  her 
skirt  in  a  waltz,  —  nothing  that  you  can  do  will 
prevent  her  shuddering  at  the  very  mention  of 
your  name.  Perhaps,  from  the  point  of  view  of 
the  greatest  good  of  the  greatest  number,  a 
woman's  method  of  sizing  up  the  male  sex  is  the 
best  possible,  but  it  comes  hard  on  well-mean- 
ing but  heavy-handed  men  like  us. 

"  We  Marrables  have  always  been  men's  men, 
although  we  have  the  profoundest  reverence  for 
women.  (Perhaps  that  is  the  reason:  a  woman 
never  wants  you  to  reverence  women ;  she  wants 
you  to  reverence  her.)  What  sticks  in  our  throats 
is  the  enormous  amount  of  make-believe  and 
shilly-shallying  that  has  to  go  on  between  the 
sexes  before  any  definite  business  can  be  accom- 
plished. Whenever  I  see  a  Marrable  in  a  draw- 
ing-room, sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  chair  and  bal- 
ancing a  teacup,  I  always  know  exactly  what 
he  is  there  for,  and  I  also  know  that  he  is  dumbly 
resisting  man's  primitive  instinct  to  pick  up  the 
right  girl  and  run.  When  that  feat,  or  its  equiva- 
lent, has  been  accomplished,  all  is  well :  I  have 
never  known  a  Marrable  who  was  not  a  complete 
success  as  a  husband.  But  they  are  bad  starters. 


SEALED   ORDERS  193 

"Your  father  was  an  exception.  He  had  the 
good  luck  to  meet  a  girl  who  knew  a  man  when 
she  saw  one,  and  was  willing  to  accept  the  will 
for  the  deed  when  she  found  him  unable  to  ex- 
press articulately  what  she  would  have  loved  to 
hear.  By  a  further  stroke  of  good  luck  her  pa- 
rents objected  to  him,  so  he  had  a  comparative 
walk-over. 

"And  therefore,  Hughie,  I  counsel  you  to  es- 
cape all  future  unhappiness  by  marrying  Joey  as 
soon  as  you  get  home  —  a  consummation  to  which, 
as  you  will  probably  have  gathered  by  this  time, 
the  whole  of  these  laboured  and  transparent 
testamentary  dispositions  of  mine  are  directed. 
I  have  left  the  child  entirely  in  your  hands. 
Marry  her  as  quickly  as  you  can,  and  then  I 
shall  know  for  certain,  whatever  my  state  of 
existence  at  the  time,  that  the  two  people  whom 
I  care  for  most  on  earth  are  both  booked  for  a 
life  of  perfect  happiness.  I  could  not  wish  a  man 
a  sweeter  wife  or  a  woman  a  better  husband. 

"Forgive  my  clumsy  methods,  but  you  know 
I  mean  well.  —  Yours, 

"  JAMES  MARRABLE." 

Hughie  folded  up  this  characteristic  document 
and  put  it  carefully  back  in  his  pocket.  Then 
he  lit  his  pipe  and  reflected. 

He  did  not  altogether  agree  with  the  tone  of 


194  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

his  uncle's  letter,  but  he  knew  in  his  heart  that 
it  contained  a  good  deal  of  truth.  He  was  ready 
to  marry  and  settle  down,  but  like  most  of  his 
race  he  contemplated  the  preliminary  recon- 
noitring, the  manoeuvring  for  position,  and  the 
elaborate  enveloping  movements  which  seem 
inseparable  from  a  modern  matrimonial  engage- 
ment, with  something  akin  to  terror.  At  the 
same  time,  it  seemed  a  tame  thing  to  come  home 
and  marry  a  bread-and-butter  miss  out  of  the 
schoolroom  to  gratify  the  shade  of  a  departed 
relative. 

The  train  slowed  down.  They  were  approach- 
ing Midfield  Junction,  where  he  must  change. 
Hughie  took  his  feet  down  from  the  opposite 
cushions  and  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe. 

"We'll  see,"  he  said.  "I  must  have  a  look  at 
Joey  first.  Pretty  children  so  often  grow  up 
plain.  Perhaps  it  would  be  simplest  to  marry 
her,  but  there's  no  hurry.  I'm  home  for  a  rest, 
and  I'm  not  going  to  bother  myself.  I  have 
roughed  it  for  nine  years.  Now  I'm  going  to 
settle  down  and  have  an  easy  time  of  it." 

He  was  never  more  mistaken  in  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  CHANGE  OF  ATMOSPHERE 

Miss  JOAN  GAYMER  sat  in  a  Windsor  chair  on 
the  landing  outside  the  bathroom  door  at  Manors. 
It  was  half-past  eight  in  the  morning  —  an  hour 
when  traffic  outside  bathroom  doors  is  apt  to  be 
congested. 

Miss  Gaymer  was  wrapped  in  a  bluish-grey 
kimono,  which,  whether  by  accident  or  design, 

—  I  fear  there  is  very  little  doubt  about  it,  really, 

—  exactly  matched  the  colour  of  her  eyes.     At 
the  same  time  it  failed  to  conceal  the  fact  —  hor- 
resco  referens  —  that  she  was  still  attired  in  what 
American    haberdashers    call    "slumber- wear." 
Her  slim  bare  feet  were  encased  in  red  slippers, 
one  of  which  dangled  precariously  from  her  right 
big  toe,  and  her  hair  hung  down  her  back  in 
two  tightly  screwed  but  not  unbecoming  pigtails. 
At  present  she  was  engaged  in  a  heated  alterca- 
tion with  two  gentlemen  for  right  of  entry  into 
the  bathroom. 

The  only  excuse  that  I  can  offer  for  her  conduct 
is  that,  although  she  was  nearly  twenty-one,  in 
her  present  setting  she  looked  about  fourteen. 

The  gentlemen,  who  wore  large  hairy  dressing- 


196  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

gowns,  with  towels  swathed  round  their  necks 
and  mighty  sponges  in  their  hands,  did  not,  it 
must  be  confessed,  show  to  such  advantage  as 
their  opponent.  They  were  distinctly  tousled 
and  gummy  in  appearance,  and  their  wits,  as  is 
usual  with  the  male  sex  early  in  the  morning, 
were  in  no  condition  for  rapier  work.  They  had 
both  been  patiently  awaiting  their  turn  for  the 
bath  when  Joan  arrived,  and  they  were  now 
listening  in  helpless  indignation  to  a  peremptory 
order  to  return  to  their  rooms  and  stay  there 
till  sent  for,  and  not  to  molest  an  unprotected 
female  on  her  way  to  her  ablutions. 

"But  look  here,  Joey,"  said  one,  — he  was  a 
pleasant-faced  youth  of  about  nineteen,  —  "  we 
were  both  here  before  you;  and  you  know  we 
arranged  last  night  that  you  were  to  come  at 
twenty  past  —  " 

"Binks,"  commanded  the  offender  in  the  Wind- 
sor chair,  "go  straight  back  to  your  bedroom 
and  don't  argue  with  me.  If  you  are  good  I'll 
give  your  door  a  tap  on  my  way  back." 

But  Binks  was  in  no  mood  for  compromise, 
and  furthermore  wanted  his  breakfast. 

"It's  not  playing  the  game,"  he  grumbled; 
"I  was  here  first,  Cherub  was  second  — 

"Who  isn't  playing  the  game?"  flashed  out 
Miss  Gaymer.  "Have  you  shaved,  Binks?" 

Binks,  taken  in  flank,  admitted  the  impeach- 


A  CHANGE   OF  ATMOSPHERE     197 

ment, — which,  it  may  be  mentioned,  was  self- 
evident.  "You  haven't,  either,"  was  the  best  re- 
tort he  could  make. 

"  No,  but  I  've  brushed  my  teeth,"  said  the  ever- 
ready  Miss  Gaymer. 

"Well,"  pursued  Binks  desperately,  "you 
have  n't  done  your  hair." 

"My  lad,"  replied  his  opponent  frankly,  "if 
you  were  a  woman  and  had  to  put  things  on 
over  your  head,  you  would  n't  have  done  your 
hair  either." 

Binks,  utterly  demoralised,  fell  out  of  the 
fighting  line. 

"Joey,  I've  shaved,"  murmured  the  second 
gentleman  in  a  deprecating  voice. 

Miss  Gaymer  turned  a  surprised  eye  upon  him. 

"Why,  Cherub,  dear?"  she  inquired. 

"Cherub,"  who  was  still  of  an  age  to  be  ex- 
ceedingly sensitive  on  the  subject  of  his  manly 
growth,  blushed  deeply  and  subsided.  But  his 
companion  was  made  of  sterner  stuff. 

"Come  along,  Cherub!"  he  said.  "Let's  run 
her  into  her  bedroom  and  lock  her  in  until  we've 
bathed.  Hang  it!  It's  the  third  time  she's  done 
it  this  week." 

"Lay  one  finger  on  me,  children,"  proclaimed 
Miss  Gaymer,  "and  I'll  never  speak  to  either  of 
you  again!" 

She  made  ready  for  battle  by  twining  her  feet 


198  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

in  and  out  of  the  legs  of  the  Windsor  chair,  and 
sat  brandishing  a  loofah,  the  picture  of  outraged 
propriety. 

Her  heartless  opponents  advanced  to  the  attack, 
and  seizing  the  arms  of  the  chair  bore  it  swiftly, 
occupant  and  all,  down  the  passage.  Joan,  utterly 
unprepared  for  these  tactics,  was  at  first  too 
taken  aback  to  do  anything  but  shriek  and  wield 
the  loofah;  but  shortly  recovering  her  presence 
of  mind,  she  slipped  off  the  seat,  and,  doubling 
round  her  bearers,  who  were  hampered  by  the 
chair,  scampered  back  towards  the  bathroom  — 
only  to  run  heavily  into  the  arms  of  an  unyield- 
ing, sunburned,  and  highly  embarrassed  gentle- 
man, who  had  been  standing  nervously  on  the 
other  side  of  the  door  of  that  apartment  for  the 
last  five  minutes,  awaiting  an  opportunity  to 
escape,  and  had  suddenly  emerged  therefrom  on 
a  dash  to  his  bedroom,  under  the  perfectly  correct 
impression  that  it  was  a  case  of  now  or  never. 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  —  Why,  it's  Hughie!"  cried 
Joan.  "  Yes,  it  really  is !" 

They  recoiled,  and  stood  surveying  each  other. 
It  was  their  first  meeting.  Hughie,  owing  to  a 
breakdown  on  the  branch  line,  had  arrived  late 
the  night  before,  after  the  ladies  had  gone  to 
bed.  Joan  and  he  had  not  set  eyes  on  each  other 
for  nine  years. 

Miss  Gaymer  recovered  her  equanimity  first. 


A  CHANGE  OF  ATMOSPHERE     199 

"You're  not  a  bit  changed,  Hughie,"  she  ob- 
served with  a  disarming  smile.  "A  little  browner 
-that's  all.  Am  I?" 

Hughie  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  He  was 
genuinely  astonished  at  what  he  had  just  seen, 
and  not  a  little  shocked.  Where  young  girls  are 
concerned,  there  is  no  greater  stickler  for  pro- 
priety than  your  man  of  the  world;  and  this 
sudden  instance  of  the  latter-day  camaraderie 
of  young  men  and  maidens  had  rather  taken 
Hughie's  breath  away.  He  felt  almost  as  flut- 
tered as  an  early  Victorian  matron.  Suddenly 
he  realised  that  he  had  been  asked  a  question. 

"Changed?"  he  said  haltingly.  "Well,  it's 
rather  hard  to  say,  until  —  until  — " 

"Until  I've  got  my  hair  up  and  more  clothes 
on  ?"  suggested  Miss  Gaymer.  "Perhaps  you're 
right.  Still,  I  look  rather  nice,  don't  you  think  ?" 
she  added  modestly,  preening  herself  in  the 
kimono.  "However,  you'll  see  me  at  breakfast. 
Meanwhile  I  want  you  to  hold  those  two  boys 
back  while  I  get  into  the  bathroom.  Ta-ta,  dears ! ' ' 

And  with  an  airy  wave  of  her  hand  to  the  un- 
washed and  discomfited  firm  of  Dicky  and 
Cherub,  who  stood  grinning  sheepishly  in  the 
background,  Hughie's  ward  slipped  under  her 
guardian's  arm  and  disappeared  into  the  bath- 
room, with  a  swish  of  cserulean  drapery  and  a 
triumphant  banging  of  the  door. 


200  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

Half  an  hour  later  Hughie  descended  to  break- 
fast, there  to  be  greeted  by  his  host,  Jack  Leroy, 
a  retired  warrior  of  thirty-eight,  of  comfortable 
exterior  and  incurable  laziness,  and  his  wife,  the 
one-time  render  of  Hughie' s  heart-strings  in  the 
person  of  Miss  Mildred  Freshwater.  Another 
old  friend  was  the  Reverend  Montague  D'Arcy, 
whom  we  last  saw  dancing  the  Cachuca  by  the 
waters  of  the  Cam.  Here  he  was,  a  trifle  more 
rotund  and  wearing  Archidiaconal  gaiters,  but 
still  the  twinkling-eyed  D'Arcy  of  old.  One  or 
two  other  guests  were  seated  at  the  table,  but  as 
yet  there  was  no  sign  of  Joey.  When  she  did 
appear,  it  was  in  a  riding-habit;  and  after  a 
hearty  meal,  in  no  way  accelerated  by  urgent 
and  outspoken  messages  from  the  front  door, 
where  her  swains  were  smoking  the  pipe  of 
patience,  she  dashed  off  in  a  manner  which 
caused  most  of  those  who  were  over-eating 
themselves  round  the  table  to  refer  enviously 
to  the  digestive  equipment  of  the  young,  and 
left  Hughie  to  be  entertained  by  his  host  and 
hostess. 

"You'll  find  her  a  queer  handful,  Hughie," 
said  Mrs.  Leroy,  as  she  sat  placidly  embroidering 
an  infantine  garment  in  the  morning  sun  on  the 
verandah,  —  in  the  corner  of  which  the  current 
issues  of  the  "Spectator"  and  "Sporting  Life," 
fully  unfurled,  together  with  two  pairs  of  per- 


A  CHANGE  OF  ATMOSPHERE     201 

pendicular  boot-soles  and  a  cloud  of  cigar-smoke, 
proclaimed  the  fact  that  the  Army  and  the  Church 
were  taking  their  ease  together,  —  "  but  I  want 
you  to  remember  all  the  time  that  she  is  sound. 
You'll  be  tempted  to  disbelieve  that  over  and 
over  again,  but  don't !  She  has  been  utterly  spoiled 
by  everybody,  and  you  must  give  her  time  to 
find  her  level  again.  Left  to  herself,  she  would 
be  as  good  as  gold.  I  don't  say  she  would  n't  do 
something  rather  outre  now  and  then  from  sheer 
animal  spirits,  but  that  does  n't  count.  She's 
young,  of  course,  so  she  can't  —  she  can't  be  ex- 
pected to  —  you  know  what  I  mean  ?" 

"Stand  corn,"  remarked  a  voice  from  behind 
the  "Sporting  Life." 

"Thank  you,  dear:  that's  just  it.  You  see, 
Hughie,  men  egg  her  on,  —  they're  all  alike: 
Jack  and  Mr.  D'Arcy  are  as  bad  as  any,  —  and 
she  gets  excited  and  carried  away,  and  occasion- 
ally she  does  something  stupid  and  conspicuous. 
Five  minutes  later  she  is  bitterly  ashamed,  and 
comes  and  cries  her  heart  out  to  me.  People  know 
nothing  about  that,  of  course :  all  they  do  know 
is  that  she  did  the  stupid  thing,  and  they  call 
her  a  forward  little  cat  and  a  detestable  imp. 
Don't  you  believe  them,  Hughie! 

"Then  you'll  find  her  absurdly  impulsive  and 
generous:  you  could  have  the  clothes  off  her 
back  if  you  wanted  them.  The  other  day  she 


202  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

came  home  in  floods  of  tears  because  of  a  story 
which  a  beggar-woman  with  a  baby  had  told 
her.  It  was  the  usual  sort  of  story,  but  it  was 
quite  enough  for  Joey.  She  had  carried  the  baby 
herself  for  about  two  miles,  and  given  the  mother 
all  the  money  she  had,  and  made  her  promise 
faithfully  to  come  and  see  me  next  day.  Of  course 
the  woman  never  turned  up,  and  Joey's  blouse 
had  to  be  burned,  —  oh,  that  baby !  —  but  that 
sort  of  thing  does  n't  alter  her  faith  in  human 
nature.  And  she  stands  the  great  test,  Hughie. 
She  has  n't  got  one  set  of  manners  when  men  are 
about  and  another  when  they  are  not.  But  she's 
a  kittle  creature.  You  must  be  tender  with  her, 
and- 

"Run  her  on  the  snaffle,  old  man  —  what?" 
corroborated  the  "Sporting  Life." 

Hughie  blew  through  his  pipe  meditatively. 

"Seems  to  me,  Mrs.  Leroy,"  he  said  at  length, 
"that  I'm  in  for  a  pretty  thick  time.  Do  you 
think  she's  at  all  likely  to  take  to  my  present 
methods,  or  must  I  learn  some  new  tricks? 
Afraid  I'm  not  much  of  a  lady's  man.  Still,  Joey 
and  I  used  to  be  great  friends,  once.  Won't  that 
count  for  something?" 

"I'm  not  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy.  "  You  know 
how  the  young  loathe  being  thought  young,  or 
reminded  of  their  youth?  Joey  is  just  in  that 
frame  of  mind  at  present.  Because  you  were  a 


A  CHANGE  OF  ATMOSPHERE    203 

boy  of  twenty-one  when  she  was  a  child  of  twelve, 
she  may  darkly  suspect  you  of  desiring  to  con- 
tinue on  the  footing  of  those  days.  Don't  do 
that,  for  mercy's  sake!  For  all  practical  pur- 
poses you  are  much  nearer  to  each  other  in  age 
than  you  were  — " 

A  chuckle  reverberated  through  the  peaceful 
verandah,  and  the  "Spectator"  and  "Sporting 
Life"  converged  for  a  moment  as  if  to  share  a 
confidence. 

"Jack,"  inquired  Mrs.  Leroy  sternly,  "what 
were  you  saying  to  Mr.  D'Arcy  just  now  ?" 

"Nothin',  dear,"  said  a  meek  voice. 

"Mr.  D'Arcy,  what  was  he  saying  to  you  ?" 

Mr.  D'Arcy  took  in  a  reef  in  the  "Spectator" 
and  replied  suavely,  — 

"He  made  use  of  a  sporting  expression,  dear 
lady,  with  regard  to  your  plans  for  our  friend 
Marrable's  future,  which  I  was  happily  unable 
to  understand." 

"Jack,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy  in  warning  tones, 
"  people  who  put  their  oar  in  uninvited  get  taken 
out  for  afternoon  calls  —  in  the  brougham,  with 
both  windows  up!" 

The  "Sporting  Life"  was  promptly  expanded 
to  its  full  extent,  and  silence  reigned  again.  Pre- 
sently Mrs.  Leroy  observed  cheerfully,  — 

"By  the  way,  Hughie,  you  are  home  just  in 
time  for  a  dance — the  Hunt  Ball." 


204  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

Hollow  groans  burst  from  behind  the  news- 
papers. 

"Oh,  look  here!"  said  Hughie  frankly.  "I 
mean  —  not  really  ?" 

"Yes:  I  promised  Nina  Fludyer  to  back  her 
up  and  bring  a  'bus-load  of  people.  Why  don't 
you  want  to  come?" 

"  Well,  for  one  thing  I  have  only  danced  twice 
since  I  went  down  from  Cambridge.  One  time 
was  at  a  Viceregal  reception  in  Calcutta,  and 
the  other  was  in  Montmartre — under  less  formal 
conditions.  I'll  tell  you  what  —  you  and  your 
house-party  go  to  the  ball  and  enjoy  yourselves, 
and  your  husband  and  I  will  keep  each  other 
company  here  —  eh  ?" 

Captain  Leroy  put  down  his  paper  and  said, 
"  Good  scheme !"  in  the  loyal  but  mournful  tones 
of  one  who  realizes  that  it  is  a  forlorn  hope,  but 
that  one  might  as  well  have  a  shot  for  it.  "In 
fact,  dear,"  he  continued  desperately,  "I  was 
thinkin'  of  takin'  Marrable  out  that  very  night 
to  lie  out  for  poachers.  Old  Gannet  was  tellin' 
me  that  the  North  Wood  —  that  is  — " 

He  observed  his  wife's  withering  eye,  and  be- 
came suddenly  interested  in  the  advertisements 
on  the  back  page  of  his  periodical. 

"  Jack,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy  in  a  tone  of  finality, 
"on  Tuesday  night  you  put  on  your  best  bib  and 
tucker  and  come  with  us  —  that's  flat." 


A   CHANGE   OF  ATMOSPHERE    205 

"All  right,  m'  dear,"  replied  her  husband  in  a 
voice  which  said  to  Hughie,  "I  was  afraid  it 
would  n't  work,  old  man !" 

"And  why  don't  you  want  to  come,  Hughie  ?" 
continued  Mrs.  Leroy,  suddenly  turning  on  her 
guest. 

"  Well,  I  am  not  cut  out  for  balls,"  said  Hughie. 
"Prefer  the  open  air,  somehow." 

"If  open  air  is  all  you  want,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Leroy  grimly,  "the  Town  Hall  at  Midfield  is  the 
draughtiest  building  in  the  county." 

"Balls  are  dull  affairs,"  urged  the  faithful  but 
misguided  Leroy,  "  compared  with  the  excitement 
and  —  er  —  suspense  — 

"If  you  want  excitement  and  suspense,"  re- 
plied the  inexorable  Mrs.  Leroy,  "dance  the 
Lancers  with  Lady  Fludyer  —  fifteen  stone  of 
imperfectly  balanced  blanc-mange! " 

"And  just  a  spice  of  risk  — " 

"  Risk  ?  My  dear  boy,  try  the  Ball  Committee's 
champagne!" 

Captain  Leroy,  defeated  at  all  points,  once 
more  subsided ;  but  D' Arcy  took  up  the  argument. 

"Joking  apart,  Mrs.  Leroy,"  he  said,  "it's  an 
awful  thing  to  be  a  supernumerary  man  at  a 
dance  in  the  country.  You  crawl  in  at  the  tail 
of  your  party,  and  shake  hands  with  the  govern- 
ess, under  the  impression  that  she  is  your  hostess. 
You  are  introduced  to  a  girl,  and  book  a  dance. 


206  SUAVITER  IN  MO  DO 

You  don't  catch  her  name,  so  you  write  down 
'Red  hair  and  bird  of  paradise*  on  your  pro- 
gramme, and  leave  her.  Of  course  you  know 
nobody ;  so,  after  booking  a  few  more  wallflow- 
ers, you  still  find  a  good  deal  of  time  at  your 
disposal.  You  can  always  tell  a  male  wallflower. 
Women  can  usually  brazen  it  out :  they  put  on 
an  air  which  implies  that  they  have  refused 
countless  offers,  and  are  sitting  on  a  hard  bench 
because  they  like  it." 

"  They  can't  deceive  the  other  women,  though," 
said  Mrs.  Leroy. 

"Still,"  agreed  Hughie,  "they  impose  on  men 
all  right.  But,  as  D'Arcy  says,  a  male  wallflower 
is  hopeless.  He  looks  miserable,  and  either  mopes 
in  a  corner  like  a  new  boy  at  school,  or  else  reads 
away  at  his  programme  and  peers  about  for  a 
partner  who  is  n't  on  it." 

"Why  not  try  the  smoking-room?" 

"The  smokin'-room,"  interpolated  Leroy,  "is 
all  right  for  the  regular  Philistine.  But  if  I  go 
there,  I  find  it  in  possession  of  a  bilious  octogena- 
rian and  a  retired  major-general.  They  are  sittin' 
in  front  of  the  fire  with  a  cigar  apiece.  They  glare 
at  me  when  I  come  in,  and  then  go  on  buckin'  to 
each  other.  Presently  they  stop,  and  one  says : '  I 
suppose  you  are  not  a  dancin'  man,  sir,'  in  a  way 
which  implies  that  he  does  n't  know  what  the 
devil  young  men  are  comin'  to  nowadays.  And 


A  CHANGE  OF  ATMOSPHERE    207 

by  this  time  I'm  so  ashamed  of  myself  that  I 
simply  bolt  out  of  the  room,  with  some  yarn  about 
a  brief  rest  between  two  dances,  and  go  and  sit 
among  the  hats  and  coats  in  the  cloak-room  until 
it  is  time  to  go  and  hunt  up  the  next  freak  on  my 
programme.  Rotten  job,  I  call  it!" 

Mrs.  Leroy  surveyed  the  three  orators  with  an 
air  of  serene  amusement. 

"I  have  roused  a  storm,"  she  said.  "But  you 
are  coming  on  Tuesday — all  three!  Now,  Hughie, 
I  know  Jack  is  dying  to  take  you  round  the 
stables  and  plantations.  When  you  have  smacked 
all  the  horses'  backs  and  taken  the  pheasants' 
temperatures,  come  in.  I  want  to  introduce  you 
to  my  offspring.  You  are  fond  of  children,  I 
know." 

"  I  know  I  shall  be  fond  of  yours,  Mildred," 
said  Hughie. 

"Thank  you  —  that's  nicely  put.  But  they 
really  are  rather  pets,  though  I  say  it  who 
shouldn't." 

"Rum  little  beggars,"  mused  the  male  parent. 
"Bite  your  head  off  if  they  see  you  havin'  a 
sherry  and  bitters  before  dinner.  Got  a  sort  of 
religious  maniac  of  a  nurse,"  he  explained.  "  Been 
saved,  and  all  that.  Save  you  for  tuppence, 
Marrable!" 

"She's  a  queer  old  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy, 
"  but  such  a  good  nurse  that  her  weaknesses  don't 


208  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

matter  much.  The  children  are  never  sick  or 
sorry  —  wait  till  I  tap  wood !  your  head  will  do, 
Jack  —  and  simply  love  her." 

"  I  was  pleased  to  learn  from  their  own  lips," 
remarked  D'Arcy,  "that  they  have  been  enthusi- 
astic teetotalers  from  birth,  and  are  both  ardent 
supporters  of  Foreign  Missions." 

"And  the  baby?"  inquired  Hughie. 

"  Too  young,"  replied  Leroy ; "  but  that  does  n't 
excuse  the  poor  little  sinner  from  havin'  to  wear 
a  blue  ribbon." 

"How  does  the  nurse  regard  you,  Leroy?" 
asked  D'Arcy. 

"  Lost  sheep — hard  case  —  bad  egg  generally," 
replied  that  gentleman  resignedly.  "She's  given 
me  up, I'm  glad  to  say ;  but  she'll  be  on  Hughie's 
track  in  no  time.  Come  along." 

In  the  joy  of  roaming  round  the  familiar  plan- 
tations and  stables  Hughie  allowed  the  existence 
of  Mildred  Leroy's  offspring  to  fade  from  his 
memory ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  party  gathered 
for  luncheon  that  he  was  reminded  of  the  intro- 
duction in  store  for  him. 

The  assembled  company  consisted  of  the  host 
and  hostess,  D'Arcy,  Hughie,  Joan,  and  the  young 
gentleman  previously  referred  to  as  "Cherub." 
The  others  had  departed  on  a  sailing  expedition. 
Joan  had  declined  to  go,  alleging  that  she  must 
stay  at  home  and  entertain  her  "keeper,"  as  she 


A   CHANGE   OF  ATMOSPHERE    209 

had  now  christened  Hughie;  and  Cherub  had 
speciously  pleaded  a  tendency  to  mat  de  mer, 
and  remained  at  home  to  steal  a  march  on  his 
rivals. 

The  party  was  completed  by  two  chubby  in- 
fants of  seven  and  five,  in  large  pinafores  and 
short  white  socks,  who  were  presented  to  Brevet- 
Uncle  Hughie  as  Theodora  and  Hildegard,  though 
Hughie  discovered,  after  a  brief  experience  of 
their  society,  that  they  answered  without  resent- 
ment and  much  more  spontaneity  to  the  appel- 
lations of  "Duckies"  and  "Stodger"  respectively. 

They  were  deposited  —  it  seems  the  right  word 
—  in  the  dining-room  by  an  austere  and  elderly 
female,  who  groaned  heavily  at  the  sight  of  Cap- 
tain Leroy,  and  eyed  Hughie  with  unconcealed 
distrust  before  withdrawing.  The  small  girls  took 
their  places  one  on  each  side  of  their  mother,  and 
sat,  like  two  well-bred  little  owlets,  taking  stock 
of  their  new  uncle.  Presently  their  vigilance  re- 
laxed. It  is  a  truism  that  teetotalers  are  hearty 
eaters,  and  the  consumption  of  what  was  placed 
before  them  soon  occupied  the  attention  of 
Mesdames  Duckies  and  Stodger  to  the  exclusion 
of  all  else,  the  latter  exhibiting  a  particularly 
praiseworthy  attention  to  duty. 

Their  sole  contribution  to  the  conversation 
was  offered  when  Leroy  passed  the  claret  to 
Hughie. 


210  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

"Wine,"  remarked  Duckies  severely,  "is  a 
mocker!" 

"Stwong  dwink,"  corroborated  Stodger,  turn, 
ing  up  the  whites  of  her  eyes,  "  is  raging ! ' ' 

The  two  ladies  then  groaned  heavily  in  concert, 
and,  having  thus  contributed  their  mite  to  the  re- 
demption of  a  sinner,  resumed  their  repast. 

At  the  end  of  the  meal  the  numbers  of  the 
company  were  augmented  by  the  arrival  of 
John  Marrable  Leroy,  aged  two  years — an  infant 
whose  apoplectic  countenance  sadly  belied  the 
small  piece  of  blue  ribbon  inserted  in  his  bib. 
Having  taken  his  seat  in  his  mother's  lap,  he 
proceeded,  after  the  manner  of  babies,  to  give 
his  celebrated  entertainment.  For  the  benefit  of 
the  company  he  obligingly  identified  various 
articles  upon  the  table,  and  then  proceeded  to 
give  an  exposition  (assisted  by  manual  contor- 
tions) of  the  exact  whereabouts  of  the  Church, 
the  Steeple,  the  Door,  and  the  People.  After 
this,  without  warning  or  apology,  he  deposited 
a  nude  foot  in  his  mother's  plate,  having  in 
some  mysterious  manner  got  rid  of  his  shoe  and 
sock  under  the  table;  and  was  proceeding  to 
enumerate  the  respective  marketing  experiences 
of  a  family  of  little  pigs,  when  his  mother,  de- 
ciding that  it  was  high  time  this  seance  came  to 
an  end,  called  upon  him  to  say  grace  on  behalf 
of  the  company. 


A  CHANGE   OF  ATMOSPHERE    211 

John  Marrable  Leroy  reluctantly  ceased  finger- 
ing his  toes,  and  twisted  himself  into  a  state  of  de- 
votional rigidity.  He  then  closed  his  eyes,  folded 
his  hands,  and  breathed  stertorously.  All  waited 
with  devoutly  bowed  heads  for  his  benediction. 

"T'ank  God—  "  began  Master  Leroy  at  length. 

There  was  another  tense  pause. 

"T'ank  God  — "  repeated  the  infant  despon- 
dently. 

Another  hiatus. 

"'For'  —  dearest,"  prompted  his  mother. 

A  smile  of  intense  relief  illuminated  the  sup- 
plicant's troubled  countenance. 

"  —  Five,  Six,  Seven,  Eight,  Nine,  Ten!*'  he 
gabbled  cheerfully ;  and  the  meeting  broke  up  in 
unseemly  confusion. 

It  was  a  hot  afternoon,  and  Hughie,  who  as 
yet  was  far  from  getting  tired  of  doing  no- 
thing, was  well  content  to  sprawl  in  a  basket- 
chair  under  a  great  copper-beech,  and  watch  the 
others  play  croquet. 

Presently  Joan,  swinging  a  mallet,  came  and 
sat  on  the  grass  beside  him. 

"Well,  Hughie?"  she  began,  regarding  her 
comptroller  rather  quizzically. 

"Well,  Joey?" 

Then  they  both  laughed,  or  rather  chuckled. 
The  curious  part  about  it  was  that  while  Hughie 


212  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

laughed  "  Ha,  ha ! "  deep  down,  Joey  did  the  same. 
Tee-heeing  and  high-pitched  feminine  shrieking 
were  beyond  her  compass.  She  was  the  Joey  of 
old,  with  the  same  gruff  voice,  though  she  had 
got  over  her  difficulty  with  the  r's  and  Z's. 

"It  seems  rummy,"  observed  Miss  Gaymer  re- 
flectively, "  my  being  put  in  your  charge  like  the 
guard  of  a  train.  Do  you  expect  me  to  obey  you  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Hughie.  He  felt  he  was  missing 
an  opportunity  of  saying  something  bright  and 
striking,  but  "Yes"  was  the  only  word  he  could 
think  of  besides  "No." 

"Oh!"  replied  Miss  Gaymer  enigmatically. 

"Don't  you  intend  to?"  inquired  Hughie. 

"Well,  it  depends  on  what  you  tell  me  to  do. 
If  it  was  anything  that  did  n't  matter  much  I 
might  do  it,  sometimes,  just  to  save  your  face. 
But  as  a  rule  I  should  n't." 

"Oh!"  said  Hughie,  in  his  turn. 

"I  may  as  well  tell  you  at  once,"  continued  the 
lady,  "the  things  that  it's  no  use  scolding  me 
about.  First  of  all,  I  always  choose  my  own 
friends,  and  never  take  recommendations  or 
warnings  from  anybody.  Then  you  must  n't  in- 
terfere with  my  dancing  or  sailing  or  riding, 
because  I  love  them  better  than  anything  in  the 
world.  Then,  you  must  n't  try  to  prevent  my 
reading  books  and  seeing  plays  that  you  think 
are  bad  for  me,  because  that  sort  of  thing  is  simply 


A  CHANGE   OF  ATMOSPHERE    213 

not  done  nowadays.  And  of  course  you  must  n't 
call  me  extravagant  if  I  dress  nicely.  Also,  you 
must  n't  expect  me  to  go  in  for  good  works,  be- 
cause I  hate  curates.  And  don't  give  me  advice, 
because  I  loathe  it.  On  the  other  hand,  it  may 
comfort  you  to  know  —  it  does  most  men,  for 
some  reason  —  that  I  don't  want  a  vote  and  I 
don't  smoke  cigarettes.  Oh,  the  poor  little  mite ! " 

She  was  on  her  feet  and  across  the  lawn  in  a 
flash,  to  where  the  obese  Stodger,  prostrate  upon 
a  half-buried  tree-root,  was  proclaiming  to  the 
heavens  the  sorrow  of  a  sudden  transition  from  the 
perpendicular  to  the  horizontal.  She  comfor- 
ted the  child  with  whole-hearted  tenderness,  and 
after  taking  her  turn  in  the  game  of  croquet,  re- 
turned to  Hughie  and  sat  down  beside  him  again. 

"Well  —what  do  you  think  of  me?"  she  in- 
quired suddenly. 

Hughie  regarded  her  intently. 

"I  don't  know  yet,"  he  said.  "I  want  to  see  a 
little  more  of  you." 

"Most  people,"  said  Miss  Gaymer  with  dig- 
nity, "make  up  their  minds  about  me  at  once." 

"I  won't  do  that,"  said  Hughie.  "It  would  n't 
be  quite  fair." 

Joan  pondered  this  retort  and  finally  flushed 
like  a  child. 

"  That  means  that  you  have  taken  a  dislike  to 
me,"  she  said. 


214  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

"I  didn't  mean  it  that  way,"  said  Hughie, 
much  distressed,  —  "really!" 

"  Anyhow,  it  means  that  you  have  n't  made  up 
your  mind  about  me,"  persisted  Joan. 

"That  is  true,"  admitted  Hughie,  who  was  no 
hand  at  fencing. 

"Well,  do  it  soon,"  said  Miss  Gaymer.  "I'm 
not  accustomed  to  being  put  on  trial.  I  may  men- 
tion to  you,"  she  added  complacently,  "that  I  am 
considered  a  great  success.  Do  you  know  what 
Jacky  Penn  told  me?" 

"No;  what?"  inquired  Hughie  perfunctorily. 
He  was  beginning  to  understand  the  inwardness 
of  Mildred  Leroy's  warning  that  the  girl  beside 
him  had  not  yet  found  her  feet. 

"He  told  me,"  said  Joan,  with  an  unaffected 
sigh  of  pleasure,  "that  the  men  here  all  call  me 
'The  Toast.'  What  do  you  say  to  that  ?" 

"A  Toast,"  said  Hughie  rather  heavily,  "is 
usually  'an  excuse  for  a  glass.'  I  should  n't  like 
to  think  of  you  merely  as  that,  Joey." 

Miss  Gaymer  eyed  her  guardian  with  undis- 
guised exasperation. 

"Hughie,  you  have  got  fearfully  old-maidish 
in  the  last  nine  years,"  she  said.  "Where  have 
you  been  ?  In  any  decent  society  ?" 

"Sometimes;  but  not  often.  Not  what  you 
would  call  decent  society,  Joey." 

"Well,"  remarked  Miss  Gaymer,  turning  her 


A   CHANGE   OF  ATMOSPHERE    215 

opponent's  flank  with  characteristic  readiness, 
"  whatever  it  was,  it  was  n't  very  particular  about 
clothes.  Hughie,  your  get-up  is  perfectly  tragic. 
If  you  are  going  to  be  my  keeper  you  will  have 
to  begin  by  dressing  decently.  I  don't  know  who 
your  tailor  is,  but  —  Che-e-erub!" 

"What  ho!"  came  from  the  croquet-lawn. 

"Come  here,  at  once." 

Cherub  obediently  put  down  his  mallet  and 
approached.  Having  arrived,  he  halted  and  stood 
to  attention. 

"Cherub,"  commanded  Miss  Gaymer,  "turn 
round  and  round  till  I  tell  you  to  stop,  and  let 
Mr.  Marrable  see  your  clothes." 

Much  flattered,  Cherub  rotated  serenely  on  his 
axis  for  the  benefit  of  the  untutored  Marrable, 
while  Miss  Gaymer  ran  over  his  points. 

"  Must  I  have  a  waist  ? ' '  inquired  Hughie  meekly. 

"Yes  —  if  you've  got  one,"  replied  Joan,  sur- 
veying her  guardian's  amorphous  shooting-jacket 
doubtfully. 

"And  purple  socks?" 

"Green  will  do,  old  man,"  remarked  the  man- 
nequin unexpectedly. 

"Cherub,  keep  quiet!"  said  the  coutumiere. 
"  You  have  absolutely  nothing  whatever  to  recom- 
mend you  but  your  clothes,  so  don't  spoil  it  by 
babbling.  There,  Hughie!  That  is  the  sort  of 
thing.  You  must  go  up  to  town  next  week  and 


216  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

order  some.  Run  away,  Cherub !  Now,  another 
thing,  Hughie.  Look  at  your  hands.  They're 
like  a  coal-heaver's,  except  that  they're  clean. 
Can't  you  get  them  attended  to?" 

Hughie  surveyed  his  hands  in  a  reminiscent 
fashion.  They  were  serviceable  members,  and  had 
pulled  their  owner  through  many  rough  places. 
At  present  the  palms  bore  the  mark  of  the  Ori- 
noco's coal-shovels,  and  there  was  a  great  scar 
on  one  wrist  where  Hughie  had  incautiously 
touched  a  hot  bearing.  There  was  also  an  in- 
cision in  the  middle  knuckle  of  the  right  hand, 
caused  by  the  impact  of  Mr.  Gates's  front  teeth 
on  an  historic  occasion.  There  were  other  and 
older  marks,  and  most  of  them  had  some  inter- 
esting story  attached  to  them.  But  of  course  Joan 
did  not  know  this.  To  her  they  were  large,  un- 
sightly, un-manicured  hands  — only  that  and 
nothing  more.  Hughie  sighed.  All  his  old  assets 
seemed  to  have  become  liabilities,  somehow. 

"Aren't  they  a  scandal,  Hughie?"  Joan  re- 
peated. 

"I  suppose  they  are,  Joey,"  said  Hughie,  com- 
ing out  of  his  reverie.  "Right  O!  I'll  get  them 
seen  to.  I  don't  suppose  they're  ever  likely  to  be 
much  use  to  me  again,"  he  added  in  a  depressed 
tone,  "  so  they  might  as  well  be  made  ornamen- 
tal. I'll  go  and  consult  Sophy  Fullgarney  about 
them  when  I  get  back  to  town." 


A   CHANGE  OF  ATMOSPHERE    217 

"Who's  she?"  said  Joey  quickly. 

"  Manicurist  —  before  your  time,"  said  Hughie 
briefly,  pleased  to  feel  that  he  could  give  points 
to  his  ward  in  knowledge  of  something.  "Any 
more  requirements,  Joey?" 

"  Let  me  see.   Oh,  yes.  Can  you  dance  ?" 

"Used  to  waltz,"  said  Hughie  cautiously. 

"Decently?" 

"I  can  get  round  a  room." 

"Can  you  reverse  properly?" 

"If  a  man  reversed  in  my  young  days,"  said 
Hughie,  "we  used  to  regard  him  as  a  bounder. 
Do  they  do  it  now?" 

"  Yes,  always.    Can  you  do  anything  else  ?" 

"  The  usual  things  —  Lancers  and  polka. 
Danced  a  reel  once  in  Scotland." 

"  Nobody  dances  the  polka  now,  and  I  hate  the 
Lancers.  Can  you  two-step?" 

"Never  even  heard  of  it." 

Miss  Gaymer  sighed. 

"Never  heard  of  the  Boston,  I  suppose?"  she 
said  resignedly. 

"  Never  in  my  life,"  said  Hughie.  "  Look  here," 
he  added,  inspired  by  a  sudden  hope,  "  perhaps  it 
would  be  as  well  if  I  stayed  at  home  on  Tuesday 
night  —  eh  ?" 

"Quite  as  well,"  said  Miss  Gaymer  candidly. 
"But  I  don't  suppose  Mildred  will  let  you  off. 
You'll  be  wanted  by  the  wallflowers." 


218  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

"But  not  by  Joey,  apparently." 

"  I  don't  dance  with  rotters,"  said  Miss  Gaymer 
elegantly.  "  I  am  practically  booked  up  already, 
too.  However,  if  you  apply  at  once  I  might  give 
you  one."  She  thought  for  a  moment.  "I'll  try 
you  with  number  eight." 

"We  had  better  not  settle  at  present,"  said 
Hughie.  "I  should  like  to  have  a  look  round 
the  ballroom  before  I  tie  myself  down  in  any  way. 
But  I'll  bear  your  application  in  mind." 

Miss  Joan  Gaymer  turned  and  regarded  her 
companion  with  unfeigned  astonishment.  He  was 
still  sprawling,  but  his  indolent  pose  of  lazy  con- 
tentment was  gone,  and  for  a  moment  challenge 
peeped  out  of  his  steely  eyes.  She  rose  deliber- 
ately from  the  grass,  and  walked  with  great  state- 
liness  back  to  the  croquet-lawn. 

Hughie  sat  on,  feeling  slightly  breathless.  He 
had  just  realised  that  he  possessed  a  temper. 

Presently  Mrs.  Leroy  completed  a  sequence  of 
five  hoops  and  retired,  followed  by  the  applause 
of  an  incompetent  partner,  to  the  copper-beech. 

She  sat  down  opposite  Hughie,  and  surveyed 
him  expectantly. 

"Well,  Hughie?"  she  said. 

"Well,  Mildred?" 

"WeU,  Hughie?" 

"I  think,"  said  Hughie,  answering  the  un- 
spoken question,  "that  she  wants — slapping!" 


A   CHANGE   OF  ATMOSPHERE    219 

Mildred  Leroy  nodded  her  head  sagely. 
"Ah!"  she  remarked.    "I  thought  you  would 
say  that.    Well,  I  hope  you'll  do  it." 

Hughie  reviewed  the  events  of  the  day,  more 
suo,  at  three  o'clock  next  morning,  sitting  with  his 
feet  on  the  sill  of  his  open  bedroom  window,  - 
the  bedroom  of  his  boyhood,  with  the  old  school 
and  'Varsity  groups  upon  the  walls,  —  as  he 
smoked  a  final  pipe  before  retiring  to  rest. 

It  was  almost  dawn.  The  velvety  darkness  was 
growing  lighter  in  texture;  and  occasionally  an 
early-rising  and  energetic  young  bird  would  utter 
a  tentative  chirrup  —  only  to  subside,  on  meeting 
with  no  encouragement  from  the  other  members 
of  the  orchestra  (probably  trades  unionists),  until 
a  more  seasonable  hour. 

Hughie  had  sat  on  with  D'Arcy  and  Leroy  in 
the  billiard-room  long  after  the  other  men  — 
Joey's  clientele  —  had  emptied  their  glasses  and 
gone  to  bed.  There  had  been  a  "ladies'  night," 
accompanied  by  fearsome  games  (of  a  character 
detrimental  to  the  table)  between  sides  captained 
by  Joey  and  another  damsel ;  and  even  after  Mil- 
dred Leroy  had  swept  her  charges  upstairs  there 
had  been  bear-fighting  and  much  shrieking  in  the 
passages  and  up  the  staircase.  Then  the  younger 
gentlemen  had  returned,  rumpled  but  victorious, 
to  quench  their  thirst  and  listen  with  respectful 


220  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

deference  to  any  tale  that  the  great  Marrable 
might  care  to  unfold.  (The  story  of  the  Orinoco 
had  gone  round,  though  it  had  mercifully  escaped 
the  notice  of  the  halfpenny  papers.) 

But  Hughie  had  not  been  communicative, 
though  he  had  proved  an  eager  and  appreciative 
listener  to  'Varsity  gossip  and  athletic  "shop." 
So  the  young  men,  having  talked  themselves  to  a 
standstill,  had  gradually  faded  away,  highly 
gratified  to  find  the  great  man  not  only  willing  but 
eager  to  listen  to  their  meticulous  chronicles ;  and 
Hughie  and  D'Arcy  and  Leroy,  their  symposium 
reduced  to  companionable  limits,  had  compared 
notes  and  "swapped  lies,"  as  the  Americans  say, 
far  into  the  night. 

Hughie's  impressions  of  the  day  were  slightly 
blurred  and  confused  —  at  the  which  let  no  man 
wonder.  He  was  accustomed  to  fresh  faces  and 
new  environments,  but  the  plunge  from  yester- 
day into  to-day  had  been  a  trifle  sudden.  Last 
night  he  had  driven  up  to  the  door  of  Manors  a 
masterless  man,  a  superior  vagabond,  an  irre- 
sponsible free-lance,  with  hundreds  of  acquaint- 
ances and  never  a  friend.  In  twenty-four  hours 
this  sense  of  irresponsible  detachment  had  gone 
for  ever,  and  the  spell  of  English  home-life  had 
sunk  deep  into  his  being.  He  felt  for  the  first 
time  that  he  was  more  than  a  mere  unit  in  the 
Universe.  He  had  turned  from  something  into 


A  CHANGE   OF  ATMOSPHERE    221 

somebody.  He  realised  that  he  had  a  stake  in 
the  country  —  the  county  —  the  little  estate  of 
Manors  itself ;  and  a  great  desire  was  upon  him 
to  settle  down  and  surround  himself  with  every- 
thing that  is  conveyed  to  an  Englishman  here 
and  abroad — especially  abroad — by  the  word 
Home. 

Then  there  were  the  people  with  whom  he  had 
come  in  contact  that  day.  They  were  nearly  all 
old  friends,  but  they  were  old  friends  with  new 
faces.  There  was  Mildred  Leroy,  for  instance. 
He  had  half  expected  his  relations  with  that 
young  matron,  the  past  considered,  to  be  of  a 
slightly  tender  and  sentimental  nature.  Far  from 
it.  Her  attitude  to  him  was  simply  maternal  — 
as,  indeed,  it  had  been,  had  he  realised  the  fact, 
from  the  very  beginning  of  their  friendship.  A 
woman  always  feels  motherly  towards  a  man 
of  her  own  age,  and  rightly,  for  she  is  much 
older  than  he  is.  Occasionally  she  mistakes  this 
motherly  feeling  for  something  else,  and  marries 
him  —  but  not  often.  Obviously  Mildred  Leroy 
now  regarded  Hughie  as  nothing  more  than  an 
eligible  young  debutant,  the  chaperon's  natural 
prey,  to  be  rounded  up  and  paired  off  with  all 
possible  despatch. 

Then  there  was  Joey.  Twenty-four  hours  ago 
he  had  had  no  particular  views  on  the  subject  of 
his  ward,  beyond  — 


222  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

(1)  The  reflection  that  he  would  probably  find 
her  "rather  a  bore"; 

(2)  An  idle  speculation  as  to  whether,  if  ex- 
pediency should  demand  it,  he  would  be  able  to 
bring  himself  to  marry  her. 

Well,  twenty-four  hours  is  a  long  time.  He 
saw  now  quite  clearly  that  whatever  Miss  Gay- 
mer's  shortcomings  might  be,  a  tendency  to  bore 
her  companions  was  not  one  of  them;  and  that 
if  ever  the  other  question  should  arise,  the  diffi- 
culty would  lie,  not  in  bringing  himself  to  marry 
Joey,  but  in  bringing  Joey  to  marry  him. 

Like  a  sensible  man,  he  decided  to  let  things 
work  themselves  out  in  their  own  way,  and  went 
to  bed.  There  he  dreamed  that  Joey,  attired 
in  a  blue  kimono  and  red  slippers,  was  teaching 
him  to  dance  the  two-step  to  a  tune  played  by 
the  engines  of  the  Orinoco. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE 

HUGHIE  continued  during  the  next  few  weeks  to 
study  the  character  of  the  female  sex  as  exem- 
plified by  his  ward  Miss  Joan  Gaymer,  and  some 
facts  in  natural  history  were  brought  to  his  notice 
which  had  not  hitherto  occurred  to  him. 

In  her  relations  with  her  male  belongings  a 
woman  does  not  expect  much.  Certainly  not 
justice,  nor  reason,  nor  common  sense.  That 
which  she  chiefly  desires  —  so  those  who  know 
inform  us —  is  admiration,  and,  if  possible,  kind- 
ness, though  the  latter  is  not  essential.  The  one 
thing  she  cannot  brook  is  neglect.  Attention  of 
some  kind  she  must  have.  Satisfy  her  soul  with 
this,  and  she  will  remain  all  you  desire  her  to 
remain,  —  toute  femme, —  something  for  lonely 
mankind  to  thank  God  for.  Stint  her,  and  there 
is  a  danger  that  she  will  drift  into  the  ranks  of 
that  rather  pathetic  third  sex,  born  of  higher 
education  and  feminine  superfluity,  which  to-day 
stands  apart  from  its  fellow-creatures  and  loudly 
proclaims  its  loathing  for  the  masculinity  of  man 
and  its  contempt  for  the  effeminacy  of  woman, 
but  which  seems  so  far  only  to  have  cast  away 


224  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

the  rapier  of  the  one  without  being  able  to  lift 
or  handle  the  bludgeon  of  the  other. 

Not  that  Miss  Joan  Gaymer  ran  any  such  risk. 
She  was  indeed  toute  femme,  and  stood  secure 
from  the  prospect  of  being  cut  off  from  her  natu- 
ral provender.  Her  chief  danger  was  that  of  a 
surfeit.  She  possessed  a  more  than  usually  healthy 
appetite  for  admiration,  and  there  was  never 
wanting  a  supply  of  persons  —  chiefly  of  her  own 
sex,  be  it  said  —  to  proclaim  the  fact  that  in  her 
case  the  line  between  appetite  and  gluttony  was 
very  finely  drawn  indeed.  There  was  some  truth, 
it  is  to  be  feared,  in  the  accusation,  for  Joan  was 
undoubtedly  exhibiting  symptoms  at  this  time  of 
a  species  of  mental  indigestion  —  what  the  French 
call  tele  montee  and  the  Americans  "swelled 
head"  —  induced  by  an  undiluted  diet  of  wor- 
ship and  homage.  Appetite  for  this  sort  of  thing 
grows  with  eating,  and  Joan,  like  her  mother  be- 
fore her,  was  beginning  to  think  too  much  of  those 
who  supplied  her  with  the  meat  her  soul  loved 
and  too  little  of  those  who  did  not.  And  as  those 
who  did  not  were  chiefly  those  who  had  her  wel- 
fare most  nearly  at  heart,  she  was  deprived  for 
the  time  being  of  a  good  deal  of  the  solid  suste- 
nance of  real  friendship. 

She  was  a  curious  mixture  of  worldly  wisdom 
and  naivete,  and  was  frankly  interested  in  her- 
self. She  was  undisguisedly  anxious  to  know 


VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE         225 

what  people  thought  of  her,  and  made  no  at- 
tempt to  conceal  her  pleasure  when  she  found 
herself  "a  success."  On  the  other  hand,  she  pre- 
sumed a  great  deal  too  much  on  the  patience  and 
loyalty  of  her  following.  She  was  always  captious, 
frequently  inconsiderate,  and,  like  most  young 
persons  who  have  been  respectably  brought  up, 
was  desperately  anxious  to  be  considered  rather 
wicked. 

These  facts  the  slow-moving  brain  of  Hughie 
Marrable  absorbed  one  by  one,  and  he  felt  vaguely 
unhappy  on  the  girl's  account,  though  he  could 
not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  blame  her.  Joey,  he 
felt,  was  merely  making  full  use  of  her  oppor- 
tunities. Within  her  small  kingdom,  and  for  her 
brief  term,  she  held  authority  as  absolute  as  that, 
say,  of  a  secretary  of  state,  nor  was  she  fettered 
by  any  pedantic  scruples,  such  as  might  have 
hampered  the  official  in  question,  about  exer- 
cising the  same ;  and  Hughie,  who  was  something 
of  an  autocrat  himself,  could  not  but  admit  that 
his  ward  was  acting  very  much,  mutatis  mutandis, 
as  he  would  have  done  under  similar  circum- 
stances. 

But  as  time  went  on  and  his  sense  of  perspective 
adjusted  itself,  he  began  to  discover  signs  that 
beneath  all  her  airs  and  graces  and  foam  and 
froth,  the  old  Joey  endured.  She  was  a  creature 
of  impulse,  and  her  vagaries  were  more  frequently 


226  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

due  to  the  influence  of  the  moment  than  any 
desire  to  pose.  She  would  disappoint  a  young 
man  of  a  long-promised  tete-a-tete  on  the  river,  to 
go  and  play  at  shop  in  a  plantation  with  the 
under-keeper's  children.  She  would  shed  tears 
over  harrowing  but  unconvincing  narratives  of 
destitution  at  the  back  door.  She  was  kind  to 
plain  girls,  —  which  attractive  girls  sometimes  are 
not,  —  and  servants  adored  her,  which  is  a  good 
sign  of  anybody. 

She  was  lavishly  generous ;  indeed,  it  was  never 
safe  for  her  girl  friends  to  express  admiration, 
however  discreet,  for  anything  belonging  to  her, 
for  she  had  an  embarrassing  habit  of  tearing  off 
articles  of  attire  or  adornment  and  saying,  "I'll 
give  it  to  you!"  with  the  eagerness  and  sincerity 
of  a  child. 

And  her  code  of  honour  was  as  strict  as  a 
schoolboy's  —  than  which  no  more  can  be  said. 
A  secret  was  safe  with  her.  She  had  once  promptly 
and  permanently  renounced  the  friendship  of  a 
particular  crony  of  her  own,  who  boasted  to  her, 
giving  names  and  details,  of  a  proposal  of  mar- 
riage which  she  had  recently  refused. 

In  short,  Miss  Joan  Gaymer  strongly  resembled 
the  young  lady  who  in  times  long  past  was  a  cer- 
tain poetical  gentleman's  Only  Joy.  She  was 
sometimes  forward,  sometimes  coy, — sometimes, 
be  it  added,  detestable,  —  but  she  never  failed 


VARIUM  ET   MUTABILE         227 

to  please  —  or  rather,  to  attract,  which  is  better 
still. 

Mrs.  Jack  Leroy  spared  neither  age  nor  sex  on 
the  night  of  the  Hunt  Ball.  Her  husband,  Hughie, 
and  the  Reverend  Montague  D'Arcy  —  all  suffer- 
ing from  that  peculiar  feeling  of  languid  depres- 
sion which  invariably  attacks  the  male  sex  about 
9.30  p.  M.  when  dancing  is  in  prospect  —  were 
hounded  into  pumps  and  white  gloves,  and  packed 
into  the  omnibus,  which,  after  a  drive  of  seven 
miles,  during  which  the  gentlemen  slept  furtively 
and  the  tongues  of  Joan  and  her  girl  friends 
wagged  unceasingly,  deposited  the  entire  party  of 
twelve  on  the  steps  of  the  Town  Hall  at  Midfield. 

Their  numbers  had  been  completed  by  some 
overnight  arrivals.  The  first  two  were  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Lance  Gaymer.  Joan's  only  brother  had 
taken  upon  him  the  responsibility  of  matrimony 
at  the  early  age  of  twenty-two,  and  the  rather 
appalling  young  person  who  preceded  him  into 
the  drawing-room,  and  greeted  Joan  as  "  Jowey," 
was  the  accessory  to  the  fact.  Why  or  where 
Lance  had  married  her  no  one  knew.  He  had 
sprung  her  one  day,  half  proudly,  half  defiantly, 
upon  a  family  circle  at  Manors  which  was  for  the 
moment  too  horror-struck  to  do  anything  but 
gape.  Fortunately  Uncle  Jimmy  was  not  present, 
—  he  had  departed  on  his  voyage  by  this  time,  — 
and  it  was  left  to  Joan  to  welcome  the  latest  ad- 


228  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

dition  to  the  house  of  Gaymer.  This  she  did 
very  sensibly  and  prettily,  though  she  wept  un- 
restrainedly upon  the  sympathetic  bosom  of  Mil- 
dred Leroy  afterwards. 

For  Lance's  sake  Mrs.  Gaymer  was  accepted 
without  demur.  Whatever  she  was  or  had  been, 
—  whether  she  had  manipulated  a  beer-engine  or 
gesticulated  in  musical  comedy, — there  she  was, 
and  had  to  be  assimilated.  No  questions  were 
asked,  but  she  was  religiously  invited  to  Manors 
at  intervals,  and  Joan  and  Mrs.  Leroy,  when  they 
went  up  to  town  in  the  season,  paid  occasional 
state  calls  upon  Mrs.  Lance  at  her  residence  in 
Maida  Vale,  where  they  drank  tea  in  company 
with  the  alumncB  of  the  variety  stage  and  the  jug- 
and-bottle  department. 

Lance  himself  was  understood  to  be  making  a 
living  out  of  journalism.  He  looked  considerably 
more  than  twenty-three. 

The  third  arrival  was  a  Mr.  Guy  Haliburton, 
proposed  for  admission  by  Mr.  Lance  Gaymer, 
seconded  by  Mrs.  Lance  Gaymer.  He  was  full  of 
deference,  and  apologised  with  graceful  humility 
for  his  presence.  He  felt  himself  a  horrible  in- 
truder, he  said,  but  he  had  been  assured  so  ear- 
nestly by  "old  Lance"  that  Mrs.  Leroy  was  in 
want  of  another  dancing  man,  that  he  had  ven- 
tured to  accept  his  vicarious  invitation  and  come 
to  Manors.  He  was  made  welcome. 


VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE         229 

Mr.  Haliburton,  on  further  acquaintance,  de- 
scribed himself  as  an  actor,  but  Hughie,  whose 
judgments  of  men  —  as  opposed  to  women  — 
were  seldom  wrong,  put  him  down  unhesitatingly 
as  a  gentleman  who  lived,  actor  or  no,  by  his  wits. 
He  was  a  striking-looking  personage  of  about 
thirty.  He  had  curly  black  hair  and  dark  eyes, 
with  dangerous  eyelashes.  He  was  well  dressed, 
—  too  well  dressed  for  the  country,  —  and  one 
felt  instinctively  that  he  was  a  good  card-player, 
and  probably  objected  to  cold  baths  and  early 
rising. 

The  Manors  party  were  greeted  in  the  ves- 
tibule of  the  Town  Hall  by  Lady  Fludyer,  self- 
appointed  Mistress  of  the  Revels.  At  present 
she  more  nearly  resembled  a  well-nourished 
Niobe. 

"  My  dear,"  she  cried,  falling  limply  upon  Mrs. 
Leroy  and  kissing  her  feverishly,  "what  do  you 
think  has  happened  ?" 

"Band  not  come?"  hazarded  Mrs.  Leroy. 

"  Worse !  Not  a  man  —  not  a  subaltern  —  not 
a  drummerboy  can  get  away  from  Ipsleigh  to- 
night!" (Ipsleigh  was  a  neighbouring  military 
depot,  and  a  fountain-head  of  eligibility  in  a 
barren  land.)  "They  have  all  been  called  out 
to  some  absurd  inspection,  or  route-march,  or 
manoeuvres,  or  something,  at  twenty-four  hours' 
notice.  And  they  were  coming  here  in  swarms! 


230  SUAVITER  IN   MODO 

There  won't  be  nearly  enough  men  to  go  round 
now.  Half  the  girls  will  be  against  the  wall  all 
night!  Oh,  my  dear,  when  I  get  hold  of  the 
General  - 

Lady  Fludyer's  voice  rose  to  a  shriek,  and  she 
plunged  wailing  into  a  dark  doorway,  like  a  train 
entering  a  tunnel. 

Mrs.  Leroy  turned  to  her  shrinking  cavaliers, 
with  satisfaction  in  her  eye. 

"  It 's  as  well  I  brought  the  lot  of  you,"  she  said. 
"Now  get  to  work.  Jack,  the  first  waltz  with 
you,  if  you  please." 

The  ball  was  soon  in  full  swing,  though  it  was 
only  too  plain  that  men  were  somewhat  scarce. 
Hughie,  much  to  his  alarm,  found  his  programme 
full  in  ten  minutes,  and  presently,  bitterly  re- 
gretting the  stokehold  of  the  Orinoco,  put  forth 
into  the  fray  with  Mrs.  Lance  Gaymer,  having 
decided  to  do  his  duty  by  that  lady  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  get  it  over.  She  addressed  him  as 
"dear  boy,"  and  waltzed  in  a  manner  which 
reminded  him  of  the  Covent  Garden  balls  of 
his  youth,  thereby  causing  the  highest  and 
haughtiest  of  the  county  to  inquire  of  their 
partners  who  she  might  be.  The  word  soon 
passed  round  that  she  was  the  wife  of  young  Gay- 
mer. ("You  remember,  don't  you?  Rather  an 
unfortunate  marriage,  and  all  that.  Barmaid,  or 
something.  However,  the  family  have  decided  to 


VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE         231 

make  the  best  of  her.  They  '11  have  their  hands 
full  —  eh?")  Whereupon  fair  women  elevated 
their  discreetly  powdered  noses  a  little  higher, 
while  unregenerate  men  hurried  up,  like  the  Four 
Young  Oysters,  all  eager  for  the  treat,  and  fur- 
tively petitioned  Lance  Gaymer  to  introduce 
them  to  his  wife. 

On  entering  the  ballroom  Joan  Gaymer,  se- 
renely conscious  of  a  perfectly-fitting  new  frock 
and  her  very  best  tinge  of  colour,  took  up  her 
stand  at  her  recognised  "pitch"  beside  the  end 
pillar  on  the  left  under  the  musicians'  gallery, 
and  proceeded  to  fill  up  the  vacancies  caused  in 
her  programme  by  the  defection  of  the  dancing 
warriors  from  Ipsleigh.  Among  the  first  appli- 
cants for  the  favour  of  a  waltz  was  Mr.  Guy  Hali- 
burton. 

"All  right  —  number  two,"  said  Joan. 

Haliburton  wrote  it  down,  and  asked  for  an- 
other. 

"I'll  see  how  you  waltz  first,"  said  Miss  Gay- 
mer frankly.  "Then  —  perhaps!  I  am  rather 
particular." 

The  music  had  risen  to  her  brain  like  wine,  and 
she  was  in  what  her  admirers  would  have  called 
her  most  regal,  and  her  detractors  her  most  ob- 
jectionable, mood.  Mr.  Haliburton,  however, 
merely  bowed  reverentially,  and  made  way  for  an 
avalanche  of  Binkses  and  Cherubs,  with  whom 


232  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

Joan,  babbling  at  the  top  of  her  voice  and  enjoy- 
ing every  moment  of  her  triumph,  booked  a  list 
of  fixtures  that  stretched  away  far  into  to-morrow 
morning. 

The  waltz  with  the  fascinating  Haliburton 
proved  so  satisfactory,  —  in  point  of  fact,  he  was 
easily  the  best  dancer  in  the  room,  —  that  Joan 
immediately  granted  him  two  more.  It  was  char- 
acteristic of  her  that  she  declined  to  take  the  floor 
again  until  the  unfortunate  gentlemen  at  whose 
expense  Haliburton  was  being  honoured  had  been 
found,  brought  to  her,  and  apprised  of  their  fate. 
They  protested  feebly,  but  Joan  swept  them  aside 
in  a  fashion  with  which  they  were  only  too  fami- 
liar. 

"Run  way,  chicks,"  she  said  maternally,  "and 
get  fresh  partners.  There  are  heaps  of  nice  girls 
to  spare  to-night.  Look  at  that  little  thing  over 
there,  with  the  blue  eyes,  and  forget-me-nots  in 
her  hair.  Get  introduced  to  her  —  she's  perfectly 
lovely.  Worth  six  of  me,  any  day.  Trot!" 

But  the  two  young  men,  refusing  to  be  com- 
forted, growled  sulkily  and  elbowed  their  way 
outside,  to  console  each  other  for  the  fragility  of 
petticoat  promises,  and  fortify  themselves  against 
any  further  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  For- 
tune of  a  similar  nature,  in  the  refreshment  room. 

Still,  the  girl  to  whom  Joan  had  directed  their 
attention  was  well  worth  notice.  She  stood  near 


VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE         233 

the  door,  a  slim,  graceful,  and  somehow  rather 
appealing  little  figure.  Her  hair  was  the  colour 
of  ripe  corn,  her  eyes,  wide  and  wondering,  were 
as  blue  as  the  forget-me-nots  in  her  hair,  and  her 
lips,  to  quote  King  Solomon  upon  a  very  different 
type  of  female,  were  like  a  thread  of  scarlet.  She 
wore  a  simple  white  frock,  and  carried  in  her  hand 
the  bouquet  of  the  debutante. 

Joan  swung  past  her  in  the  embrace  of  the  ever- 
faithful  Binks. 

"That  child  is  a  perfect  dream,"  she  said  to 
herself,  "but  her  mouth  is  trembling  at  the  cor- 
ners. I  wonder  if  some  man  has  forgotten  to  ask 
her  to  dance.  I  should  think  — " 

At  this  point  in  her  reflections  she  was  whirled 
heavily  into  the  orbit  of  a  reversing  couple,  and 
the  ensuing  collision,  together  with  the  enjoyment 
of  exacting  a  grovelling  apology  from  the  hapless 
Binks  (who  was  in  no  way  responsible  for  the  ac- 
cident), drove  further  cogitations  on  the  subject 
of  the  girl  with  the  forget-me-nots  out  of  her  head. 

About  midnight  Joan  slipped  upstairs  to  what 
her  last  partner  —  a  mechanically-minded  young 
gentleman  from  Woolwich  —  described  as  the 
repairing  shop,  to  make  good  the  ravages  effected 
by  the  Lancers  as  danced  in  high  society  in  the 
present  year  of  grace. 

The  music  for  the  next  waltz  was  just  beginning 
when  she  returned  to  her  pillar.  No  eager  partner 


234  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

awaited  her,  which  was  unusual;  and  Joan 
glanced  at  her  programme.  She  bit  her  lip. 

"Number  eight,"  she  said  to  herself.  "Joey, 
my  child,  he  has  scored  you  off  —  and  you  de- 
serve it!" 

This  cryptic  utterance  had  reference  to  Mr. 
Hugh  Marrable,  to  whom  it  may  be  remembered 
this  particular  dance  had  been  offered,  much  as 
a  bone  is  thrown  to  a  dog,  on  the  lawn  at  Manors 
three  days  before. 

Hughie's  subsequent  demeanour  had  piqued 
his  ward's  curiosity.  He  had  made  no  further 
reference  to  number  eight,  neither  had  he  made 
any  attempt  during  this  evening  to  come  up  and 
confirm  the  fixture.  In  fact,  he  had  not  asked 
Joan  for  a  dance  at  all,  with  the  consequence 
that  Miss  Gaymer,  who,  serenely  confident  that 
her  guardian  would  come  and  eat  humble  pie  at 
the  last  moment,  had  kept  number  eight  free, 
now  found  herself  occupying  the  rather  unusual 
role  of  wallflower.  What  was  more,  she  knew  she 
would  be  unable  to  pick  up  a  partner,  for  every 
available  man  was  being  worked  to  the  last  ounce, 
and  pretty  girls  still  sat  here  and  there  about  the 
room,  chatting  with  chaperons  and  maintaining 
a  brave  appearance  of  enjoyment  and  insouciance. 

"I'm  not  going  to  let  Hughie  see  me  propping 
a  wall  this  dance,"  said  Joan  to  herself  with  de- 
cision. "He  would  think  I  had  been  keeping  it 


VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE         235 

for  him.  What  shall  I  do  ?  Go  back  to  the  cloak- 
room ?  No ;  it  is  always  full  of  girls  without  part- 
ners pretending  they've  just  dropped  in  to  get 
sewn  up.  I'll  go  to  the  Mayor's  parlour  and  sit 
there.  It's  never  used  at  these  dances." 

Making  a  mental  entry  on  the  debit  side  of  her 
missing  partner's  ledger,  Miss  Gaymer  retired 
unostentatiously  from  the  ballroom,  and  turned 
down  an  unlighted  passage,  which  was  blocked 
by  a  heavy  screen  marked  "Private,"  and  encum- 
bered with  rolls  of  carpet  and  superfluous  furni- 
ture. 

The  darkened  passage  was  comfortably  cool 
and  peaceful  after  the  blaze  and  turmoil  of  the 
field  of  action,  and  apparently  had  not  been  dis- 
covered by  couples  in  search  of  seclusion.  Joan 
was  approaching  the  end,  where  she  knew  the 
door  of  the  Mayor's  parlour  was  situated,  when 
she  became  aware  of  a  certain  subdued  sound 
quite  near  her.  It  was  a  sound  well  calculated  to 
catch  the  ear  of  one  so  tender-hearted  as  herself. 
Some  one  was  sobbing,  very  wretchedly,  in  the 
darkness  within  a  few  feet  of  her. 

Joan  stopped  short,  a  little  frightened,  and 
peered  about  her.  Her  eyes  were  growing  accus- 
tomed to  the  gloom,  and  presently  she  beheld  a 
glimmer  of  white  almost  at  her  knee.  The  glim- 
mer outlined  itself  into  the  form  of  a  filmy 
ball-dress. 


236  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

Joan  tackled  the  situation  with  her  usual 
promptitude. 

"I  say,"  she  said,  "what's  the  matter?  Let 
me  help  you." 

The  sobbing  ceased,  and  the  white  figure  sat 
up  with  a  start. 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  continued  Joan,  "I'm 
going  to  turn  up  this  electric  light." 

There  was  a  click,  and  the  rays  of  a  single  and 
rather  dusty  incandescent  lamp  illuminated  the 
scene,  and  with  it  the  slender  figure,  seated  for- 
lornly on  a  roll  of  red  carpet,  of  the  little  lady  of 
the  forget-me-nots. 

Her  face  was  flushed  with  sudden  shame,  for 
her  shoulders  were  still  heaving,  and  her  cheeks 
glistened  with  tears,  the  which  she  dabbed  con- 
fusedly with  a  totally  inadequate  scrap  of  pocket 
handkerchief. 

Joan,  regardless  of  her  new  frock,  was  down 
upon  the  dusty  roll  of  carpet  in  a  moment.  She 
put  her  arm  round  the  girl. 

"My  dear,"  she  said  authoritatively,  "what  is 
it?  Tell  me." 

The  girl  told  her.  It  was  a  simple  story,  and 
not  altogether  a  novel  one,  but  it  contained  the 
elements  of  tragedy  for  all  that. 

This  was  her  coming-out  ball.  She  pointed  to 
her  discarded  bouquet  lying  on  the  grimy  floor. 
Her  father  had  put  it  into  her  hand,  and  hung  a 


VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE         237 

little  enamel  pendant  round  her  neck,  and  given 
her  a  kiss,  —  she  told  her  story  with  all  a  child's 
fidelity  to  detail,  —  and  had  despatched  her  in  her 
brother's  charge,  with  admonitions  not  to  break 
too  many  hearts,  on  the  long  fourteen-mile  drive 
to  Midfield,  —  a  period  occupied  in  ecstatic  an- 
ticipations of  the  event  to  which  she  had  been 
looking  forward  ever  since  she  had  put  her  hair 
up. 

Her  brother,  on  their  arrival,  had  booked  one 
dance  with  her,  —  subsequently  cancelled  with 
many  apologies  on  the  ground  that  he  had  just 
met  a  girl  whom  he  simply  must  dance  with,  — 
and  introduced  her  to  two  young  men  whose  pro- 
grammes were  already  full ;  after  which  he  had 
plunged  into  the  crowd,  comfortably  conscious 
that  his  duty  had  been  done,  leaving  his  sister  to 
stand,  smiling  bravely,  with  tingling  feet  and  her 
heart  in  her  throat,  from  half-past  nine  until  a 
quarter-past  twelve.  The  music  was  pulsing  in 
her  ears,  youth  and  laughter  were  swinging  easily 
past  her  —  even  brushing  her  skirt ;  and  she  was 
utterly  and  absolutely  alone.  She  was  just  eigh- 
teen ;  she  was  the  prettiest  girl  (with  the  possible 
exception  of  Joan  Gaymer)  in  the  room ;  it  was 
her  first  ball  —  and  not  a  man  had  asked  her  to 
dance.  A  small  matter,  perhaps,  compared  with 
some,  but  men  have  blown  out  their  brains  for 
less. 


238  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

Long  before  she  had  sobbed  out  all  her  pitiful 
little  narrative  her  head  was  on  Joan's  shoulder, 
and  that  mercurial  young  person,  oblivious  of 
everything  save  the  fact  that  here  was  a  sister  in 
distress,  was  handling  the  situation  as  if  she  were 
twenty  years  her  companion's  senior  instead  of 
two. 

"I  stood  it  for  nearly  three  hours,"  said  the 
girl  apologetically,  "and  then  I  —  I  came  here." 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  Jflftn  with  decision, 
"you  are  n't  going  to  stay  here  any  longer.  You 
are  coming  straight  back  to  the  ballroom  with 
me." 

"I  can't,"  replied  the  girl,  —  "I  could  n't  bear 
it!" 

"You  are  coming  back  to  the  ballroom  with 
me,"  repeated  Miss  Gaymer  firmly.  "There  are 
sixteen  dances  to  go  yet,  and  you  are  going  to 
dance  the  soles  of  your  slippers  through,  my 
child!" 

"You  are  awfully  kind,"  said  the  girl  wistfully, 
"  but  you  won't  be  able  to  find  me  a  partner  now." 

"I  can  find  you  sixteen,"  said  Joan. 

The  child  turned  wondering  eyes  on  her,  and 
asked  a  question. 

"Me?  Oh,  I  shall  have  a  rest:  I  want  one," 
replied  Miss  Gaymer,  splendide  mendax.  "In 
fact,  it  will  be  a  charity  on  your  part  to  take  them. 
They're  all  stupid,  and  they  can't  dance." 


VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE         239 

But  the  girl  shook  her  head. 

"You're  a  dear  to  suggest  it,"  she  said,  "but 
it  would  n't  do.  Think  how  angry  they  would  be, 
having  booked  a  dance  with  Miss  Gaymer,  and 
only  getting  — 

"Do  you  know  me?"  asked  Joan  in  sur- 
prise.* 

"Everybody  knows  you,"  said  the  girl. 

Joan  flushed  rosily.  It  was  a  compliment  after 
her  own  heart.  ^^  ' 

"I  say,  what's  ylur  name?"  she  asked. 

"Sylvia  Tarrant." 

Joan  nodded.  " I  know  now,"  she  said.  "You 
live  near  Gainford." 

The  Tarrants  were  new-comers.  Sylvia's  father 
was  a  retired  sailor  and  a  widower,  and  had  but 
lately  settled  in  the  district,  which  would  account 
for  his  daughter's  want  of  acquaintance. 

"Yes,"  said  Sylvia.  "But  really,  I  could  not 
take  your  partners.  They'd  be  furious  at  getting 
me  instead  of  you." 

Miss  Gaymer  turned  and  scrutinised  the  face 
and  figure  beside  her. 

"All  you  want,  my  child,"  she  said,  "is  a  start. 
After  to-night  you'll  never  be  left  alone  for  two 
seconds  at  any  ball  you  care  to  go  to.  In  fact,  I 
don't  see  how  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  get  any  part- 
ners at  all,"  she  added  plaintively. 

At  this  idea  the  girl  laughed  and  looked  hap- 


240  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

pier,  which  was  just  exactly  what  Joan  meant  her 
to  do.  Her  spirit  was  returning. 

Joan  rose  briskly. 

"Now,  Sylvia,"  she  said,  "I'm  going  to  leave 
you  for  two  minutes,  because  I  want  to  find  a 
man  to  send  round  and  tell  all  my  partners  that 
you've  agreed  to  take  them  on.  Then  I'll  come 
back  and  get  you  started.  Just  put  yourself 
straight.  There's  a  loose  end  of  hair  here:  I'll 
roll  it  up.  There!  Your  eyes  are  getting  better 
every  minute.  Give  your  skirt  a  shake  out,  and 
have  a  look  at  yourself  in  that  mirror,  and  you'll 
be  simply  perfect.  So  long!" 

"There's  somebody  coming,"  said  Sylvia,  turn- 
ing from  her  toilet  and  looking  over  her  shoulder. 

A  masculine  form  filled  the  passage.  It  was 
Hughie,  who,  deprived  of  a  partner  through 
Joan's  absence,  —  the  result  of  standing  on  his 
dignity  in  the  matter  of  number  eight,  —  was 
prowling  about  in  search  of  a  quiet  spot  where  he 
might  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  a  pipe. 

Joan,  who  had  forgotten  all  about  number 
eight,  received  him  with  unfeigned  pleasure,  and 
hurried  him  back  whence  he  came.  On  the  way 
she  breathlessly  explained  the  situation  to  him. 

"Hughie,  that  poor  child  has  come  here  not 
knowing  a  soul,  and  has  stood  against  the  wall 
for  three  hours.  There  is  n't  a  partner  to  be  had 
for  love  or  money  at  this  hour,  so  she  must  just 


VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE         241 

have  mine.  Take  my  programme  —  wait  a  min- 
ute, I'll  fill  in  some  of  these  initials  —  and  go 
round  to  all  the  men  whose  names  are  on  it,  and 
tell  them  I'm  very  sorry  but  I've  got  a  headache 
and  can't  dance  any  more  to-night,  but  they're 
to  come  to  me  at  once  at  my  pillar  and  be  intro- 
duced to  a  substitute  I've  provided  for  them." 

"Do  you  think  they'll  exactly — jump  at  the 
idea  of  a  substitute?"  suggested  Hughie  mildly. 

"Their  business,"  said  Miss  Gaymer  with  a 
sudden  return  to  her  usual  manner,  "is  to  do 
what  I  tell  them!  Run,  Hughie.  Don't  say  a 
word  about  the  poor  kid  not  having  been  able  to 
get  partners,  will  you  ?  Say  she  came  late  —  any- 
thing! You  understand  ?" 

Hughie  nodded. 

"I  understand,"  he  said.  "She  came  late,  and 
you  have  a  headache.  Those  are  the  two  essential 
facts  of  the  case  —  eh  ?" 

"  Yes.  Hurry !"  said  Joan,  giving  her  guardian 
a  push. 

"Joey,"  said  Hughie,  "you're  a  brick!" 

Half  an  hour  later  the  members  of  the  Midfield 
Hunt  Ball  were  electrified  to  behold  Miss  Joan 
Gaymer  sitting  between  two  comatose  and  fam- 
ished chaperons,  watching  the  dancers  with  in- 
dulgent eye,  and  generally  presenting  the  appear- 
ance of  one  whose  time  for  these  follies  is  overpast. 


242  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

Then  heads  began  to  turn  in  another  direction. 
People  were  asking  one  another  who  the  little 
thing  with  the  forget-me-nots  might  be,  who 
danced  like  a  fairy,  and  appeared  to  have  made 
a  "corner"  in  all  Miss  Gaymer's  usual  admirers. 
Had  her  appearance  anything  to  do  with  Miss 
Gaymer's  retirement  ?  A  case  of  pique  —  eh  ? 
Heads  wagged  sagely,  and  eyebrows  were  ele- 
vated. Poor  Joan !  Like  all  the  great  ones  of  the 
earth,  she  had  her  detractors. 

Sylvia  herself  was  lost  in  the  clouds  by  this 
time.  When  not  engaged  in  obeying  Joan's  man- 
date to  dance  the  soles  of  her  slippers  through, 
she  was  granting  interviews  to  obsequious  young 
men,  who  surged  round  in  respectful  platoons 
and  hoped  that,  though  disappointed  on  this  oc- 
casion, they  might  have  the  pleasure  at  the 
County  Bachelors'  on  Thursday  fortnight. 

Never  was  there  such  a  triumph.  The  girl, 
radiant  and  fluttering,  smiled  and  blushed  and 
wrote  down  hopeless  hieroglyphics  on  the  back 
of  her  programme,  while  Miss  Joan  Gaymer,  the 
deposed,  the  eclipsed,  sat  contentedly  by  and 
realised  to  the  full  the  truth  of  her  own  dictum 
that  all  Sylvia  Tarrant  wanted  was  a  start. 

Later  in  the  evening  the  watchful  eye  of  Hughie 
Marrable  detected  the  fact  that  Joan  had  dis- 
appeared from  amid  the  concourse  of  matrons, 
and  he  speculated  as  to  where  she  might  be.  He 


VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE         243 

himself  was  enjoying  a  brief  period  of  freedom, 
his  partner  for  the  moment  having  pleaded  urgent 
private  repairs  and  vanished  to  the  regions  above, 
and  the  idea  had  struck  him  that  Joan  might  be 
going  supperless. 

A  brief  scrutiny  informed  him  that  she  was 
neither  in  the  ballroom  nor  the  supper-room. 
Then  an  inspiration  seized  him.  Waiting  for  a 
comparatively  quiet  moment,  he  paid  a  hasty 
visit  to  the  latter  apartment,  and  having  levied 
a  contribution  upon  the  side-table,  slipped  fur- 
tively round  the  big  screen  and  down  the  dark 
passage. 

His  instincts  had  not  failed  him.  Miss  Joan 
Gaymer  was  sitting  peacefully  upon  the  roll  of 
red  carpet.  Her  head  was  lying  back  against  the 
wall,  and  the  rays  of  the  dusty  electric  light 
glinted  upon  her  coppery  hair.  Her  eyes  were 
closed,  but  she  opened  them  at  Hughie's approach, 
blinking  like  a  sleepy  Dryad. 

"Hallo,  Hughie!"  she  observed.  "You  nearly 
won  a  pair  of  gloves  that  time.  Long  evening, 
this!" 

Hughie  began  to  deposit  articles  on  the  floor. 

"Supper,"  he  observed  briefly. 

He  laid  out  a  plate  of  mayonnaise,  another  of 
trifle,  a  bottle  about  half- full  of  champagne,  and 
a  tumbler. 

"Hughie,"  said  Joan,  "you're  the  only  real 


244  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

friend  I  have  in  the  world !  I  was  nearly  crying 
for  something  to  eat.  That,  and  seeing  other 
people  dance  and  not  me.  Hughie,  it  was  simply 
awful!  I  had  no  idea:  if  I  had  sat  there  much 
longer  I  should  have  burst  into  tears.  I'd  for- 
gotten, too,  that  by  giving  away  all  my  partners 
I  was  giving  away  my  supper.  If  I'd  remem- 
bered I  would  have  kept  just  one  —  a  little  one. 
But  never  mind,  now:  the  plague  is  stayed.  I 
owe  you  one  for  this.  How  did  you  manage  to 
carry  all  those  things?" 

"Large  hands,"  said  Hughie.  "Half  a  min- 
ute!" 

He  produced  from  his  tail-pocket  two  forks, 
a  napkin,  and  a  bottle  of  soda-water. 

"I  remembered  you  liked  your  drink  diluted," 
he  said,  pouring  out  both  bottles  at  once.  "I 
noticed  it  at  dinner,  the  other  night." 

"Hughie,  you're  a  dear!"  said  Joan  impul- 
sively. 

"Say  when!"  remarked  Hughie  unsteadily. 

It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  band 
had  played  "  Whisper  and  I  shall  hear,"  followed 
by  "John  Peel,"  followed  by  "God  save  the 
King,"  followed  by  "John  Peel,"  once  more,  fol- 
lowed by  "God  save  the  King"  again,  and  the 
musicians  were  now  putting  away  their  instru- 
ments with  an  air  of  finality  which  intimated  that 


VARIUM  ET  MUTABILE         245 

in  their  humble  opinion  the  Midfield  Hunt  Ball 
had  had  its  money's  worth. 

The  Manors  party,  all  twelve  of  them,  were 
being  scientifically  packed  into  an  omnibus  con- 
structed to  seat  ten  uncomfortably,  and  Joan  was 
waiting  her  turn  in  the  portico.  At  this  moment 
Sylvia  Tarrant,  followed  by  a  slightly  sheepish 
brother,  came  down  the  steps.  Her  cheeks  were 
excessively  pink  and  her  eyes  blazed. 

She  saw  Joan,  and  stopped. 

"I  was  afraid  I  was  going  to  miss  you,"  she 
said.  "Good-night!" 

"Good-night!"  said  Joan. 

The  little  girl  —  she  was  a  head  shorter  than 
Joan  —  placed  her  hands  upon  her  new  friend's 
shoulders,  and  stood  on  tiptoe. 

"I  should  like  to  kiss  you,"  she  said  shyly. 

"Oh,  my  dear!"  said  Joan,  quite  flustered. 
"Of  course  —  if  you  like.  There!" 

She  was  unusually  silent  all  the  way  home,  and 
when  they  reached  Manors  said  good-night  to 
Mrs.  Leroy  and  flitted  upstairs  to  her  room.  The 
rest  of  the  party  dispersed  ten  minutes  later,  and 
Hughie  was  left  alone  with  his  host  and  hostess. 

"I  have  never  known  that  child  have  a  head- 
ache before,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy  rather  anxiously, 
as  Hughie  lighted  her  candle.  "I  hope  there's 
nothing  wrong." 

"She's  as  right  as  rain,"  said  Hughie.     "She 


246  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

gave  up  all  her  partners  —  every  man  Jack  of 
them  —  I  mean  —  I'm  sorry !  I  don't  think  she 
meant  me  to  tell  — " 

"You  may  as  well  finish  now,"  said  Mrs. 
Leroy  composedly. 

Hughie  did  so.    Mrs.  Leroy  nodded. 

"It  was  like  her,"  she  said  softly,  "especially 
telling  you  to  keep  quiet  about  it.  A  good  many 
women  might  have  given  up  their  dances,  but 
very  few  could  have  resisted  the  temptation  to 
make  capital  out  of  their  generosity.  Never  tell 
me  again,  miserable  creature,"  she  continued, 
turning  suddenly  upon  her  comatose  spouse, 
"  that  a  woman  is  incapable  of  doing  a  good  turn 
to  another  woman!" 

"Cert'nly,  m'dear,"  replied  Captain  Leroy, 
making  a  desperate  effort  to  close  his  mouth  and 
open  his  eyes. 

"But  of  course,"  broke  in  Hughie  unexpectedly, 
"there  are  precious  few  women  like  Joey." 

Then  he  bit  his  lip,  and  turned  a  dusky  red. 

Mrs.  Leroy,  being  a  woman,  took  no  outward 
notice,  but  her  husband,  who  was  a  plain  crea- 
ture, turned  and  regarded  his  guest  with  undis- 
guised interest. 

"What  ho!"  he  remarked,  wagging  his  sleepy 
head. 

"Good-night,  old  man!"  said  Hughie  hur- 
riedly. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

BUSINESS  ONLY 

NEXT  morning  Hughie  made  Miss  Joan  Gaymer 
a  proposal  of  marriage. 

It  was  not  an  impressive  effort  —  very  few  pro- 
posals are.  But  a  performance  of  this  kind  may 
miss  the  mark  as  a  spectacle  and  yet,  by  the  in- 
dulgence of  the  principal  spectator,  achieve  its 
end.  Even  thus  Hughie  failed,  and  for  various 
reasons. 

In  the  first  place,  he  proposed  directly  after 
breakfast,  which,  as  Joey  pathetically  observed 
to  Mrs.  Leroy  long  afterwards,  was  just  the  sort 
of  brutal  thing  he  would  do.  A  woman,  especially 
if  she  be  young,  likes  to  be  won,  or  at  any  rate 
wooed,  in  a  certain  style.  A  secluded  spot,  sub- 
dued light,  mayhap  a  moon ;  if  possible,  distant 
music  —  all  these  things  tell.  If  Hughie  had  paid 
a  little  more  attention  to  stage-effects  of  this  kind 
he  might  have  found  his  ward  more  amenable. 
Being  a  Marrable,  he  brushed  aside  these  trap- 
pings and  came  straight  to  what  he  fondly  imag- 
ined was  the  point,  little  knowing  that  to  a  young 
girl  romance  and  courtship  make  up  one  great 
and  glorious  vista,  filling  the  eye  and  occupying 


248  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

the  entire  landscape,  while  marriage  is  a  small 
black  cloud  on  the  distant  horizon. 

His  actual  method  of  procedure  was  to  sit 
heavily  down  beside  his  ward  as  she  enjoyed 
the  morning  sun  in  a  corner  of  the  lawn,  and 
say,  - 

"Joey,  I  want  to  talk  to  you  —  on  business." 

"All  right,  warder,"  replied  Miss  Gaymer 
meekly ;  "  fire  away ! ' ' 

"I  suppose  you  know,"  said  Hughie,  a  little 
dashed,  "that  all  your  affairs  have  been  left  in 
my  hands  ?" 

"I  do,  worse  luck !"  said  Miss  Gaymer  frankly. 
"And  that  reminds  me,  Hughie  dear,  I  should 
like  a  trifle  on  account.  You  won't  refuse  poor 
Joey,  will  you?" 

She  squeezed  her  guardian's  arm  in  a  manner 
which  a  Frenchman  would  have  described  as  ires 
caline. 

"  I  think  I  had  better  put  you  on  an  allowance," 
said  Hughie. 

Joan's  eyes  danced. 

"Oh,  you  ripper  I  How  much?" 

"Can't  say,"  replied  Hughie,  "until  I've  been 
up  to  town  and  seen  the  bankers." 

"When  are  you  going?" 

"  To-morrow :  that 's  why  I  wanted  to  talk  to 
you  to-day.  You  see,  your  money  is  in  two  parts, 
so  to  speak.  One  lot  is  tied  up  in  such  a  way  that 


BUSINESS   ONLY  249 

it  can't  be  touched  until  poor  Uncle  Jimmy's 
death  is  actually  proved." 

Joan's  blue-grey  eyes  were  troubled. 

"Hughie,"  she  said,  "is  there  any  hope  ?  I  still 
like  to  think  so." 

Hughie  shook  his  head.  "  Not  much,"  he  said. 
"In  fact,  none.  It  is  known  that  he  went  with 
that  crack-brained  expedition  of  Hymack's  up  the 
Congo,  —  to  study  the  Rubber  Question  on  the 
spot,  —  and  the  last  letter  he  sent  home  said  that 
he  was  suffering  from  black- water  fever,  and  it  is 
also  known  that  the  expedition  came  back  without 
him.  And  —  all  that  was  two  years  ago,  Joey." 

Joan  nodded  her  head  submissively. 

"Poor  Uncle  Jimmy!"  she  said  softly. 

"Still,"  continued  Hughie  stoutly,  "you  never 
know.  I  have  sent  a  man  out  to  make  inquiries, 
and  if  he  fails,  perhaps  I  shall  go  myself.  But 
until  we  learn  something  definite  the  will  can't 
be  proved.  However,  he  left  me  very  full  instruc- 
tions what  to  do  in  case  he  did  not  come  back,  so 
I  must  carry  them  out.  There  is  plenty  for  you 
to  go  on  with.  I  shall  run  up  to  town  to-morrow, 
and  when  I  come  back  I'll  let  you  know  how 
much  it  is,  and  how  much  a  year  I  can  allow  you." 

Miss  Gaymer  clasped  her  hands  and  sighed 
happily. 

"  We  will  have  a  time,  Hughie!"  she  said.  "I'll 
stand  treat." 


250  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

"Thank  you,"  said  Hughie  gravely. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Hughie,  suddenly  ill 
at  ease,  —  he  had  arrived  at  Part  Two  of  his 
morning's  syllabus,  —  made  fatuous  attempts  to 
roll  a  cigarette.  His  ward  sat  with  a  rapt  expres- 
sion in  her  widely-opened  eyes,  mentally  visualis- 
ing a  series  of  charitable  enterprises  (ranging 
from  a  turquoise  pendant  for  Mildred  Leroy  to 
a  new  cap  for  the  cook)  made  feasible  by  the 
sudden  prospect  of  wealth. 

Presently  Hughie  cleared  his  throat  in  a  heart- 
rending manner,  and  said,  in  what  he  afterwards 
admitted  to  himself  was  entirely  the  wrong  sort 
of  voice,  — 

"  Joey,  I  think  you  and  I  had  better  marry  one 
another." 

Miss  Gaymer,  who  was  more  used  to  this  sort 
of  thing  than  her  companion,  turned  and  eyed 
him  calmly. 

"And  why?"  she  asked. 

There  was  only  one  possible  answer  to  this 
question,  and  Hughie  should  have  given  it  with 
the  full  strength  of  his  heart  and  soul  and  body. 
But  —  well,  reserve  is  a  curious  and  paralysing 
thing.  All  he  said  was,  — 

"I  think  it  would  be  very  suitable;  don't 
you  ?" 

"For  you  or  for  me  ?"  inquired  Miss  Gaymer. 

"For  both  of  us,"  replied  Hughie.   "No  —  for 


BUSINESS   ONLY  251 

me!"  he  added,  his  habitual  modesty  getting  the 
better  of  him. 

"In  what  way  ?"  continued  Miss  Gaymer,  with 
unnatural  calm. 

"  Well  —  Uncle  Jimmy  was  very  keen  about 
it,"  said  Hughie  desperately. 

"You're  a  dutiful  nephew,  Hughie,"  observed 
Joan  approvingly. 

"And  then,"  continued  the  suitor,  "as  I  have 
been  made  your  guardian,  and  all  that,  I  think 
I  am  in  a  position  to  take  care  of  you,  and  look 
after  your  money,  and  so  on." 

"  You  mean  it  would  make  it  easier  for  you  to 
manage  my  affairs  ?"  said  Miss  Gaymer  helpfully. 

"Yes,"  said  Hughie,  feeling  that  he  was  get- 
ting on. 

"Any  more  reasons  ?"  inquired  Miss  Gaymer, 
with  a  docile  appearance  of  intelligent  interest. 

Hughie  made  an  immense  effort,  and  grasped 
his  chair  until  the  veins  stood  out  on  his  hands. 
Parturiunt  monies  —  at  last. 

"Well,  Joey,"  he  said  at  last,  "we  have  always 
been  pals,  and  all  that.  I  mean,  we  have  known 
each  other  for  a  long  time  now,  have  n't  we  ?  You 
even  offered  to  marry  me  once,"  —  he  laughed 
nervously,  —  "  when  you  were  a  kiddie.  Do  you 
remember  ?  It  seems  to  me  we  should  get  on  first- 
rate  together  —  eh  ?  What's  your  opinion  ?" 

Ridiculus  mus ! 


252  SUAVITER  IN  MO  DO 

Miss  Gaymer  sat  up  in  her  chair,  and  turned 
upon  the  unfortunate  young  man  beside  her. 

"And  you  dare"  she  said,  "to  come  to  a  girl 
like  me  with  a  proposal  like  that!  You  sit  there 
and  tell  me  that  you  have  taken  me  over  from 
Uncle  Jimmy  like  a  —  like  a  parcel  from  a  porter, 
and  that  you  have  been  saddled  with  my  money 
and  affairs,  so  perhaps  it  would  be  simplest  and 
save  trouble  if  you  married  me!  Mel"  she  re- 
peated, "who  have  to  keep  men  off  with  a  stick !" 

The  last  sentence  was  a  mistake.  It  was  an 
inartistic  and  egotistical  climax  to  a  perfectly 
justifiable  tirade.  Joan  realised  the  fact  the  mo- 
ment she  had  uttered  the  words,  but  poor  Hughie 
was  too  much  occupied  in  retiring  into  his  shell 
to  notice  anything.  He  had  laid  bare  his  heart, 
in  his  own  fashion,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
and  this  was  the  result.  Never  again !  He  burned 
inwardly,  like  a  child  who  has  been  laughed  at 
by  grown-ups. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said  stiffly.  "My  mistake! 
Shan't  occur  again." 

Joey's  ear  was  caught  by  the  tone  of  his  voice, 
and  conscience  gave  her  a  twinge.  She  patted 
Hughie's  arm  in  a  friendly  way. 

"Old  boy,"  she  said,  suddenly  contrite,  "I've 
made  you  angry,  and  I  've  hurt  you.  I  'm  sowwy 
—  sorry,  I  mean !  (I'm  a  bit  upset,  you  see,"  she 
said,  smiling  disarmingly.)  "But  I  can't  marry 


BUSINESS  ONLY  253 

you,  really.  I  could  n't  bear  to  be  married  at  all 
at  present.  It  seems  so  —  so  unnecessary.  I  don't 
see  what  I  should  get  out  of  it.  That's  a  selfish 
thing  to  say,  I  suppose,  but  I'll  try  to  explain  a 
girl's  point  of  view  to  you.  You're  a  terrible  child 
in  some  respects,  so  I'll  do  it  quite  simply." 

She  stroked  his  sleeve  in  a  motherly  fashion, 
and  continued :  — 

"  Years  ago,  my  dear,  the  only  way  a  girl  could 
get  her  freedom  or  any  male  society  was  by 
marrying.  Now,  she  gets  as  much  of  both  as  she 
wants,  and  if  she  marries  she  loses  all  the  freedom 
and  most  of  the  male  society.  So  why  should  she 
marry  at  all?" 

Hughie  kept  silence  before  this  poser.  He  felt 
incapable  of  plunging  into  the  depths  of  an  argu- 
ment :  one  has  to  keep  to  the  surface  in  discussing 
these  matters  with  a  maiden  of  twenty. 

"So  I  shan't  marry  for  years,  if  at  all,"  con- 
tinued Miss  Gaymer,  with  the  air  of  one  pro- 
pounding an  entirely  new  theory.  "Not  until 
I'm  getting  passee  at  any  rate,  and  only  then  if 
I  could  find  a  man  whom  it  would  n't  give  me 
the  creeps  to  think  of  spending  the  rest  of  my  life 
with.  Besides,  the  moment  one  gets  engaged  all 
the  other  men  drop  off,  —  all  the  nice  ones,  at 
any  rate,  —  and  that  would  never  do.  Don't  you 
think  my  system  is  a  sensible  one?" 

"It  comes  hard  on  the  men,"  said  Hughie. 


254  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

"Yes,  poor  dears!"  said  Miss  Gaymer  sympa- 
thetically. "Still,  one  man  is  so  tiresome  and  a 
lot  is  so  nice!" 

With  which  concise  and  not  unmasterly  sum- 
mary of  the  marriage  question,  as  viewed  through 
the  eyes  of  the  modern  maiden,  Miss  Gaymer 
turned  the  conversation  into  other  channels,  and 
the  idyll  terminated. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  were  called  into  the 
house,  to  make  ready  for  a  boating  expedition. 

Joan,  with  her  usual  frankness,  reverted  for 
a  moment  before  they  left  the  seclusion  of  the 
trees  to  the  topic  that  was  uppermost  in  their 
minds. 

"Hughie,"  she  said  softly,  "does  it  hurt 
much?" 

"I  don't  quite  know  yet,"  said  Hughie. 

"  I  mean,  are  you  sad  or  angry  —  which  ?  It 
usually  takes  a  man  one  way  or  the  other,"  ob- 
served this  experienced  damsel. 

"I  don't  know  that  I'm  either,"  said  Hughie 
meditatively ;  "  the  only  feeling  that  I  have  just 
now  is  that  I'm  desperately  sorry.  But  I'm  not 
kicking." 

"It  is  my  belief,"  remarked  Miss  Gaymer  with 
sudden  and  pardonable  asperity,  "  that  you  don't 
care  for  me  in  the  least.  Do  you,  now?" 

They  were  a  very  honest  and  sincere  couple, 
these.  For  a  full  minute  they  looked  each  other  in 


BUSINESS  ONLY  255 

the  face,  without  speaking.  Then  Hughie  said,  — 

"Joey,  I  simply  don't  know!  I  thought  I  did 
half  an  hour  ago,  and  I'd  have  sworn  it  last  night, 
when  —  " 

He  checked  himself. 

"When  what?"  asked  Joan  swiftly. 

"Nothing,"  said  Hughie.  "That's  rather  be- 
side the  point  now,  is  n't  it  ?" 

Joan,  curiosity  struggling  with  honesty,  nodded 
reluctantly. 

"Anyhow,"  continued  Hughie,  "I  thought  I 
did  then,  but  I'm  blessed  if  I  know  now.  In 
fact,"  he  added  in  a  sudden  burst  of  confidence, 
"sometimes  I  can't  stand  you  at  any  price,  Joey 
dear!" 

"  Ah ! "  said  Miss  Gaymer,  nodding  a  wise  head, 
"I  see  you  don't  know  your  own  mind  yet.  But 
you  will  —  one  way  or  another  —  as  soon  as  you 
get  away  from  me." 

A  week  later  another  interview  took  place 
between  the  pair,  on  the  same  spot. 

"Business  only  this  time,  Joey!"  said  Hughie, 
with  rather  laborious  cheerfulness. 

"All  right.  Did  you  have  a  good  time  in 
town  ?"  inquired  Miss  Gaymer,  in  the  inevitable 
manner  of  women  and  Orientals,  who  dislike 
coming  to  the  point  in  matters  of  business  with- 
out a  few  decent  preliminaries. 


256  8UAVITER  IN  MODO 

"Yes,  thanks.  I  have  been  picking  up  old 
friends  again,  and  generally  settling  down," 
said  Hughie.  "Got  a  flat,  and  a  comic  man- 
servant —  Scotchman  —  introduce  you  some  day. 
He- 

He  plunged  into  a  rather  rambling  description 
of  John  Alexander  Goble.  He  was  evidently  no 
more  anxious  to  get  to  business  than  Joan. 

At  last  Miss  Gaymer  inquired,  — 

"  Well,  Hughie,  have  you  fixed  up  my  affairs  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Hughie  slowly.  "Do  you  want 
details?" 

"Mercy,  no!  I  don't  know  anything  about 
business,  and  I  don't  believe  you  do  either, 
Hughie.  Do  you?" 

"Not  much,"  confessed  the  trustee.  "How- 
ever, I  must  tell  you  at  once,  Joey,  that  your  in- 
come won't  be  nearly  as  large  as  I  expected  — ! 

"Right  O!"  replied  Joan  cheerfully.  "When 
do  I  start  for  the  workhouse  ?" 

"It's  not  quite  so  bad  as  that,"  said  Hughie, 
"but—" 

"What  am  I  worth?"  inquired  the  practical 
Miss  Gaymer. 

"I  can't  quite  tell  you,"  said  Hughie  in  a 
hesitating  fashion.  "You  see"  —  He  appeared 
to  be  choosing  his  words  rather  carefully  —  "the 
nominal  value  of  investments,  and  their  actual 
cash  equivalent  — 


BUSINESS  ONLY  257 

Joan  put  her  fingers  in  her  ears. 

"Stop !"  she  cried,  "or  I  shall  scream !  I  don't 
know  an  asset  from  a  liability,  except  that  in  the 
arithmetic  book  brokerage  is  one-eighth,  and  — 
Never  mind!  I  should  never  understand.  How 
much  am  I  to  have  a  year  ?  Tell  me  that." 

"Supposing  it  should  be  a  mere  trifle,"  said 
Hughie  slowly,  "what  would  you  do?" 

Miss  Gaymer  puckered  her  brow  thoughtfully. 

"You  mean,  if  I  had  n't  enough  to  live  on  ?" 

Hughie  nodded. 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  be  a  governess,  I  don't 
think.  I  love  children,  but  children  are  always 
perfectly  diabolical  to  their  governess,  and  I 
should  n't  be  able  to  stand  their  mothers,  either. 
No :  governesses  are  off !  I  should  n't  mind  being 
a  typewriter,  though,  or  a  secretary,  —  not  that 
I  can  typewrite,  or  even  spell,  —  provided  it  was 
to  a  really  nice  man.  An  author,  you  know,  or  a 
Cabinet  Minister.  He  could  walk  about  the  room, 
rumpling  up  his  hair  and  getting  the  stuff  off  his 
chest,  and  I  would  sit  there  like  a  little  mouse, 
in  a  neat  black  skirt  and  a  white  silk  blouse,  — 
perhaps  one  or  two  carnations  pinned  on,  —  look- 
ing very  sweet  and  taking  it  all  down." 

"It's  a  pretty  picture,"  said  Hughie  drily. 

"Yes,  is  n't  it  ?"  said  Miss  Gaymer,  with  genu- 
ine enthusiasm.  "I  think,"  she  continued,  soar- 
ing to  still  greater  heights,  "  that  I  should  like  to 


258  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

go  on  the  stage  best  of  all.  Of  course,  it  would  n't 
be  the  slightest  good  my  going  on  the  proper 
stage  —  learning  parts,  and  all  that ;  but  a  piece 
like  'The  Merry  Widow,'  with  different  frocks 
for  each  act  and  just  a  few  choruses  to  sing  in, 
would  be  top-hole!  Say  I'm  a  pauper,  Hughie!" 

"You're  not  —  thank  God!"  was  Hughie's 
brutal  but  earnest  response. 

"All  right,  then!  Don't  bite  my  head  off!" 
said  Miss  Gaymer,  with  unimpaired  good  temper. 
"Let  us  resume.  How  much  are  you  going  to 
give  me  ?" 

"How  much  can  you  live  on  ?" 

"Well,  I  was  talking  about  it  to  Ursula  Har- 
bord  — you  know  her,  don't  you?" 

"I  do,"  said  Hughie,  making  a  wry  face. 

"  Very  well,  don't  abuse  her.  She's  the  cleverest 
girl  I  know,"  said  Joan  warmly.  "She  is  on  the 
staff  of  'The  New  Woman,'  and  can  put  a  man 
in  his  place  in  about  two  minutes." 

"So  I  discovered,"  said  Hughie  resignedly. 
"Popular  type  of  girl.  However,  you  were 
saying  — ?" 

"I  was  asking  Ursula,"  continued  Joan, 
"about  the  cost  of  living  in  town,  and  so  on,  and 
we  agreed  to  share  a  flat.  She  said  I  could  get 
along  on  three  hundred  a-year." 

Joan  paused  expectantly,  and  waited  for  an 
answer  to  her  unspoken  question. 


BUSINESS  ONLY  259 

"That,"  said  Hughie,  after  hesitating  a  mo- 
ment as  if  to  work  out  a  sum  in  mental  arith- 
metic, "is  just  what  I  can  give  you." 

A  pair  of  Archdiaconal  shoe-buckles,  the  glim- 
mer of  a  lady's  white  evening  wrap,  and  a  glowing 
cigar-end  were  discernible  in  the  half-light  of 
the  verandah  outside  the  drawing-room  window 
after  dinner.  Two  Olympians,  to  whom  human 
hearts  were  as  an  open  book,  were  discussing 
mortal  affairs. 

"Is  there  no  way  of  bringing  it  off  ?"  inquired 
one  voice. 

"Lots,"  replied  the  other.  "But  they  have  so 
bungled  things  between  them  that  we  shall  have 
to  go  slow  for  a  bit.  Why,  oh,  why  do  men  whom 
you  could  trust  to  do  almost  anything  in  the 
ordinary  way  always  make  such  a  mess  of  their 
love-affairs  ?  Why  are  n't  you  married,  for  in- 
stance, Mr.  D'Arcy?" 

"To  return  to  the  point,"  said  the  reverend 
gentleman  evasively,  "  what  ought  Hughie  to  do  ? 
Take  her  by  the  shoulders  and  shake  her  ?  I  have 
known  such  a  method  prove  most  efficacious,"  he 
added,  rather  incautiously. 

"N-no,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  "I  don't  think  so  — 
not  in  Joey's  case.  It  would  bring  some  women 
to  reason  —  most  women,  in  fact  —  in  no  time. 
But  the  child  is  too  high-spirited.  Her  pride 


260  SUAVITER  IN  MODO 

would  never  forgive  such  treatment.  A  better 
way  would  be  for  him  to  make  love  to  some  one 
else." 

"Being  Hughie,  that  is  out  of  the  question. 
He  could  only  make  love  to  some  one  else  if  he 
meant  it;  and  that  would  rather  defeat  your 
object,  Mrs.  Leroy." 

"My  object?" 

"  Well,  ours,  then.  But  is  there  no  other  way  ?" 

"Yes.  He  must  get  into  trouble  of  some  kind. 
At  present  he  is  too  popular:  everybody  likes 
him.  If  they  turned  against  him  she  would  come 
round  fast  enough.  Yes,  he  must  get  into  trouble." 

"  Well,  perhaps  he  will,"  said  the  Venerable 
the  Archdeacon  hopefully. 


BOOK  FOUR 
THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 


CHAPTER   XV 

DEPUTATIONS  —  WITH  A  DIFFERENCE 

HUGHIE  let  himself  into  his  chambers  in  Jer- 
myn  Street,  and  rang  the  bell  of  his  sitting-room. 
It  was  a  comfortable  bachelor  apartment,  with 
sporting  trophies  on  the  walls,  cavernous  arm- 
chairs round  the  fireplace,  and  plenty  of  pipes 
dotted  about  the  mantelpiece. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  on  a  fine  morning  in 
March,  and  Hughie  had  been  to  Putney  to  stroke 
a  scratch  eight  against  the  Cambridge  crew,  who 
had  rowed  a  full  trial  on  the  early  flood  and 
required  a  little  pacing  between  bridges. 

Presently  the  sitting-room  door  opened,  and 
John  Alexander  Goble  presented  himself  upon 
the  threshold.  Since  his  unregenerate  days  on 
board  the  Orinoco  a  new  and  awful  respectability 
had  descended  upon  him,  and  in  his  sober  menial 
attire  he  looked  more  like  a  Calvinistic  divine 
than  ever.  He  regarded  his  employer  with  some 
displeasure. 

"  Your  breakfast  has  been  sitting  in  the  fender 
these  twa  hours,"  he  observed  bitterly. 

"  Sorry,  John.  Afraid  I  forgot  to  countermand 
it.  I  had  some  at  Putney." 


264          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"At  what  hour?'*  inquired  the  inexorable  Mr. 
Goble. 

"Half-past  seven,  about,  with  the  crew." 

"It's  eleven  the  noo.  You'll  be  able  for  some 
mair,  I  doot.  Forbye  it's  a  pity  to  waste  good 
food.  Bide  you,  while  I'll  get  it." 

Hughie,  who  was  as  wax  in  the  hands  of  his 
retainer,  presently  found  himself  partaking  of  a 
lukewarm  collation  and  opening  his  letters. 

He  glanced  through  the  first. 

"John!"  he  called. 

Mr.  Goble  appeared  from  the  bedroom. 

"Were  you  cry  in'  on  me?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes.   Did  two  gentlemen  call  here  at  ten  ?" 

"Aye." 

"Who  were  they?" 

"Yon  felly  Gaymer,  and  anither." 

"Who  was  he?" 

"I  couldna  say." 

"' What  was  he  like?" 

Mr.  Goble  cast  about  him  for  a  suitable  com- 
parison. 

"He  was  just  a  long  drink  o'  watter,"  he  an- 
nounced at  last,  with  an  air  of  finality. 

"Did  he  look  —  like  an  actor?"  inquired 
Hughie,  with  a  flash  of  intuition. 

"Worse  than  that,"  replied  Goble. 

"  Um  —  I  think  I  know  him.  Thank  you,  that 
will  do.  By  the  way,  I'm  expecting  some  friends 


DEPUTATIONS  265 

to  lunch.  Captain  and  Mrs.  Leroy  —  and  Mr. 
D'Arcy.  You  know  him,  don't  you  ?" 

"D'Arcy?  Aye,  I  mind  him  fine.  A  fat  yin, 
wi'  a  lum  hat  tied  up  wi'  string.  A  popish-lookin' 
body,"  commented  Mr.  Goble  sorrowfully. 

He  retired  downstairs,  to  ponder  upon  the 
dubiety  of  the  company  into  which  his  employer 
appeared  to  be  drifting,  and  Hughie  returned  to 
his  letters. 

The  sight  of  the  next  caused  him  to  glow  sud- 
denly, for  on  the  back  of  the  envelope  he  observed 
the  address  of  Joan's  flat.  But  he  cooled  when  he 
turned  it  round  and  read  the  superscription.  It 
was  in  the  handwriting  of  the  lady  with  whom 
Joan  shared  the  flat. 

"  DEAR  MR.  MARRABLE  [it  said],  — 
"Joan  and  I  are  coming  to  call  on  you  to- 
morrow about  twelve  — " 

"They'd  better  stay  to  lunch."  Hughie  touched 
the  bell  and  continued,  — 

"Dear  Joan  is  very  young  in  some  ways,  and 
she  has  no  idea  of  the  value  of  money ;  but  since 
talking  the  matter  over  with  me  recently,  she 
would  like  to  have  a  few  words  with  you  about 
her  financial  position. 

"How  delightful  to  see  the  leaves  coming  out 
again !  —  Believe  me,  yours  sincerely, 

"URSULA  HARBORD." 


266         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"'Dear  Joan  would  like*  —  would  she  ?"  com- 
mented Hughie.  "  I 'm  afraid  it's  Ursula  Harbord 
I'm  going  to  have  the  few  words  with,  though. 
Hades!" 

He  rose  and  crossed  the  room  to  the  fireplace, 
where  he  kicked  the  coals  with  unnecessary 
violence.  Then  he  sighed  heavily,  and  picked  up 
a  photograph  which  stood  upon  the  mantelpiece. 

Joan  had  spoken  nothing  but  the  truth  when 
she  told  Hughie  that  he  would  discover  his  true 
feelings  as  soon  as  he  found  himself  away  from 
her.  For  six  or  eight  months  he  had  gone  about 
his  day's  work  with  the  thoroughness  and  deter- 
mination of  his  nature.  He  had  administered  the 
little  estate  of  Manors,  was  beginning  to  dabble 
in  politics,  had  taken  up  rowing  again,  and  was 
trying  to  interest  himself  generally  in  the  course 
of  life  to  which  he  had  looked  forward  so  eagerly 
on  his  travels.  He  had  even  tried  conclusions 
with  a  few  debutantes  who  had  been  introduced  to 
his  notice  by  business-like  Mammas.  But  what- 
ever his  course  of  life,  his  thoughts  and  desires 
persisted  in  centring  round  a  single  object,  —  a 
very  disturbing  and  elusive  object,  —  and  try  as 
he  would,  he  failed  to  derive  either  pleasure  or 
profit  from  his  present  existence. 

In  other  words,  he  had  made  a  mess  of  a  love- 
affair. 

Most  men  —  and  most  women  too,  for  that 


DEPUTATIONS  267 

matter  —  undergo  this  experience  at  least  once  in 
their  lives,  and  no  two  ever  endure  it  in  the  same 
way.  One  rants,  another  mopes,  a  third  forgets, 
a  fourth  bides  his  time,  a  fifth  seeks  consolation 
elsewhere,  a  sixth  buries  himself  in  work  or 
dissipation.  Hughie,  who  cherished  a  theory  that 
everything  ultimately  comes  right  in  this  world 
provided  you  hold  on  long  enough,  and  that 
when  in  doubt  a  man  should  "  stand  by  the  Day's 
Work  and  await  instructions,"  like  Kipling's 
Bridge-Builders,  had  gone  steadily  on,  because  it 
was  his  nature  so  to  do.  It  was  uphill  work  at 
present,  —  a  mechanical  perfunctory  business, 
with  no  reward  or  alleviation  in  sight,  —  but  he 
was  determined  to  go  on  doing  his  duty  by  Joan 
to  the  best  of  his  ability,  and  combine  so  far  as  he 
was  able  the  incompatible  roles  of  stern  guardian, 
undesired  suitor,  and  —  to  him  most  paradoxical 
of  all  —  familiar  friend. 

For  there  was  no  doubt  that  Joan  liked  him. 
She  trusted  him,  consulted  him,  —  yea,  obeyed 
him,  even  when  he  contradicted  her  most  prepos- 
terous utterances  and  put  down  a  heavy  foot  on 
her  most  cherished  enterprises.  For  this  he  did 
without  flinching.  The  fact  that  he  was  a  failure 
as  a  lover  seemed  to  be  no  reason  why  he  should 
fail  as  a  guardian. 

Not  that  Joan  submitted  readily  to  his  regime. 
To  Hughie's  essentially  masculine  mind  her 


268          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

changes  of  attitude  were  a  complete  mystery. 
They  seemed  to  have  no  logical  sequence  or  con- 
nection. She  would  avoid  him  or  seek  him  out 
with  equal  unexpectedness.  She  might  be  hope- 
lessly obstinate  or  disarmingly  docile.  One  day 
she  would  behave  like  a  spoilt  child ;  on  another 
she  would  be  a  very  grandmother  to  him.  Some- 
times she  would  blaze  up  and  rail  against  her 
much-enduring  guardian  for  a  tyrant  and  a 
monster;  at  others  she  would  take  him  under  a 
most  maternal  wing,  and  steer  him  through  a 
garden-party  or  a  reception  in  a  manner  which 
made  him  feel  like  a  lost  child  in  the  hands  of  a 
benevolent  policeman.  On  one  occasion,  which 
he  particularly  remembered,  she  had  rounded  on 
him  and  scolded  him  for  a  full  half-hour  for  his 
stolid  immobility  and  lack  of  finesse;  the  self-same 
afternoon  he  had  overheard  her  hotly  defending 
him  against  a  charge  of  dulness  brought  by  two 
frivolous  damsels  over  the  tea-table. 

All  this  was  very  perplexing  to  a  man  who 
hated  subtlety  and  liked  his  friends  and  foes 
marked  in  plain  figures.  It  unsettled  his  own 
opinions,  too.  Joey's  variegated  behaviour  pre- 
vented him  from  deciding  in  his  own  mind 
whether  he  really  liked  her  or  not.  At  present 
all  he  was  certain  of  was  that  he  loved  her. 

Meanwhile  she  was  coming  to  see  him  —  about 
her  financial  position.  That  did  not  promise 


DEPUTATIONS  269 

romance.  And  Ursula  Harbord  was  coming  too. 
Help!  Certainly  life  was  a  rotten  business  at 
present.  And  it  had  been  so  full  and  glorious 
before  he  had  forsaken  the  wide  world  and  taken 
to  this  sort  of  thing.  It  might  have  been  so  dif- 
ferent too,  if  only  — 

Poor  Hughie  replaced  Joan's  photograph, 
sighed  again  —  and  coughed  confusedly.  A  fu- 
nereal image  appeared  over  his  shoulder  in  the 
chimney-glass. 

"Were  you  ringin' ?"  inquired  a  sepulchral 
voice. 

"  Yes,  John.  Miss  Gaymer  and  a  friend  of  hers 
are  coming  to  see  me  this  morning.  They'll  prob- 
ably stay  to  lunch.  You  can  clear  away  that  food 
over  there." 

He  returned  to  his  letters.  Only  one  remained 
unopened,  and  proved  to  be  from  a  man  with 
whom  he  had  arranged  to  shoot  in  the  autumn. 

"This  seems  to  promise  a  little  relief  from  the 
present  cheery  state  of  affairs,"  he  mused.  "  Four 
men  on  a  nice  bleak  moor,  with  no  women  about ! 
Thank  God !  A  hundred  pounds  a  share.  Well, 
Lord  knows,  trusteeing  is  an  unprofitable  busi- 
ness, but  I  think  I  can  just  do  it.  I  '11  accept  at 
once." 

He  began  to  write  a  telegram.  Bachelors  have 
a  habit  of  conducting  their  correspondence  in  this 
manner. 


270          THE   UNJUST  STEWARD 

"Here's  they  twa  whigmalearies,"  announced 
Mr.  Goble  dispassionately. 

He  ushered  in  Lance  Gaymer  and  the  histrionic 
Mr.  Haliburton. 

"After  compliments,"  as  they  say  in  official 
circles,  Lance  came  to  the  point. 

"Marrable,"  he  said,  after  an  almost  imper- 
ceptible exchange  of  glances  with  Haliburton, 
"aren't  you  keeping  my  sister  rather  short  of 
money?" 

Hughie  turned  and  stared  at  him  in  blank 
astonishment. 

Mr.  Haliburton,  exuding  gentlemanly  tact  at 
every  pore,  rose  instantly. 

"You  two  fellows  would  like  to  be  alone,  no 
doubt,"  he  said.  "I  must  not  intrude  into  family 
matters.  I'll  call  for  you  in  half  an  hour,  Lance." 

Hughie  had  risen  too. 

"You  need  not  trouble,  Mr.  Haliburton,"  he 
said.  "Lance  is  coming  with  you." 

Mr  Gaymer  was  obviously  unprepared  for  such 
prompt  measures  as  these. 

"  But  look  here  —  I  say  —  what  the  devil  do 
you  mean  ?"  he  spluttered. 

"I  mean,"  replied  Hughie  deliberately,  —  he 
had  realised,  almost  exultantly,  that  here  once 
more  was  a  situation  which  need  not  be  handled 
with  kid  gloves,  —  "  that  I  am  your  sister's  sole 
trustee  and  guardian,  and  that  you  have  nothing 


DEPUTATIONS  271 

whatever  to  do  with  the  disposition  of  her  prop- 
erty, and  — 

"I  think  you  forget,"  said  Lance  truculently, 
"that  I  am  her  brother." 

"I  do  not  forget  it,"  said  Hughie.  "Neither 
did  Jimmy  Marrable.  It  was  no  oversight  on  his 
part  which  left  Joan's  inheritance  and  yours 
locked  up  in  separate  compartments,  so  to  speak. 
He  gave  you  an  independent  income  long  ago, 
Lance,  because  he  was  particularly  anxious  to 
give  you  no  opportunity  of  interfering  with  Joan's 
affairs  when  the  time  came.  For  some  reason 
he  had  chosen  me  for  the  job,  and  he  preferred 
that  I  should  have  a  free  hand.  Therefore  I  am 
not  going  to  allow  you  to  cut  into  my  department. 
I  am  sorry  to  have  to  put  it  so  brutally,  but, 
really,  you  have  been  infernally  officious  of  late. 
This  is  the  fourth  reference  which  you  have  made 
to  the  subject  during  the  past  six  weeks.  I  don't 
know  whether  your  enterprise  is  inspired  by 
brotherly  love  or  the  desire  to  make  a  bit,  but 
whichever  it  is  I  don't  think  you'll  get  much 
change  out  of  me.  I  also  object  to  your  latest 
move  —  bringing  in  Mr.  Haliburton,  presumably 
as  an  accomplice,  or  a  witness,  or  whatever  you 
like  to  call  him." 

"Really,  Mr.  Marrable!"  Mr.  Haliburton's 
voice  quivered  with  gentlemanly  indignation. 

Hughie  rang  the  bell. 


272          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"  Look  here,  Marrable,"  burst  out  Lance  furi- 
ously, "you  are  getting  yourself  in  a  hole,  I  can 
tell  you !  We  —  I  happen  to  know  that  Jimmy 
Marrable  left  thirty  or  forty  thousand  pounds 
at  least  for  Joey's  immediate  use;  and  I  am 
pretty  certain  he  left  something  for  mine  too. 
Now—" 

"I'm  sorry  I  can't  ask  you  to  stay  to  lunch," 
said  Hughie,  "but  I  have  some  friends  coming. 
Show  these  gentlemen  out,  John." 

The  deputation  was  ruthlessly  shepherded 
downstairs  by  the  impassive  Mr.  Goble,  and 
Hughie  was  left  to  his  own  reflections.  He  filled 
a  pipe  meditatively. 

"I  wonder,"  he  said,  lighting  a  spill  and  puffing, 
"where  young  Lance  got  his  figures  from.  I 
also  wonder  what  the  game  is.  He  was  obvi- 
ously a  bit  worked  up,  and  I  should  say  he  had 
been  fortifying  himself  for  the  interview  before 
he  arrived.  I  knew,  of  course,  that  he  had  never 
forgiven  me  for  being  put  in  charge  of  Joey's 
affairs:  he  has  always  made  things  as  difficult 
for  me  as  possible.  Perhaps  he  wants  a  trifle  for 
himself:  his  closing  remarks  rather  pointed  that 
way.  But  what  on  earth  is  friend  Haliburton 
doing  in  that  galley  ?  I  fancy  he  has  been  at  the 
back  of  things  all  along.  What  interest  has  he  in 
the  amount  of  Joey's  fortune?  I  don't  know 
much  about  him,  but  I  would  n't  trust  him  a  yard. 


DEPUTATIONS  273 

Perhaps  Lance  owes  him  money.  Have  they 
gone,  John  ?" 

"Aye,"  replied  Mr.  Goble.  "They  went  quite 
quietly,"  he  added  regretfully. 

He  began  to  lay  the  table  for  luncheon. 

"I  say,  John,"  began  Hughie  awkwardly. 

"Aye?" 

"There's  a  thing  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about. 
I  have  been  losing  money  lately,  and  I  have  to 
give  up  some  luxuries  I  can't  afford.  I  —  I  am 
afraid  you  are  one  of  them.  I  have  always  re- 
garded a  man-servant  as  an  extravagance,"  he 
went  on  with  a  rush,  "and  I  must  ask  you  to 
look  about  for  another  place.  Take  your  time, 
of  course,  and  don't  leave  me  till  you  are  suited. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  give  you  a  character,  and  all 
that.  You  understand  ?" 

There  was  a  silence,  while  Mr.  Goble  folded  a 
napkin.  Then  he  replied:  "Fine!"  Then  he 
added,  after  a  pause,  "So  you've  been  lossin' 
your  money?  Aye!  Aha!  Mphm!" 

"Yes.  I'm  desperately  sorry,"  said  Hughie 
penitently.  "I  don't  want  to  lose  you.  Perhaps 
it  will  only  be  tempor  — " 

"You'll  no  be  daen'  that  yet  a  while,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Goble  morosely.  "I'm  an  ill  body 
tae  move." 

"But,  John,  you  don't  understand.  I  can't 
afford  to  keep  you  for  more  than  — " 


274          THE   UNJUST  STEWARD 

"There  a  cab!"  observed  Mr.  Goble. 

Hughie  looked  down  out  of  the  window. 

"  So  it  is,"  he  said  hastily.  "  I  '11  show  them  up, 
John.  You  go  on  with  your  work." 

He  was  across  and  out  of  the  room  in  three 
strides,  and  could  be  heard  descending  the  stairs 
kangaroo  fashion. 

Mr.  John  Goble  breathed  heavily  into  a  spoon 
and  rubbed  it  with  the  point  of  his  elbow. 

"I  wunner  wha  his  visitors  is,"  he  mused  caus- 
tically. "Of  course  he  always  opens  the  door 
himsel'  tae  all  his  visitors !  Of  course  I  dinna  ken 
wha  she  is!  Oh,  no!" 

He  wagged  his  head  in  a  broken-hearted  man- 
ner, and  gave  vent  to  a  depressing  sound  which  a 
brother  Scot  would  have  recognised  as  a  chuckle 
of  intense  amusement. 

To  him  entered  Miss  Ursula  Harbord.  She 
wore  pince-nez  and  a  sage-green  costume  of  some 
art  fabric  —  one  of  the  numerous  crimes  com- 
mitted in  the  name  of  Liberty.  She  was  Joan 
Gaymer's  latest  fad;  and  under  her  persuasive 
tutelage  Joan  was  beginning  to  learn  that  the  men 
who  all  her  life  had  served  her  slightest  whim  were 
at  once  monsters  of  duplicity  and  brainless  idiots ; 
and  that,  given  a  few  more  fervid  and  ungram- 
matical  articles  in  "The  New  Woman,"  women 
would  shortly  come  to  their  own  and  march  in 
the  van  of  civilisation,  and  that  people  like 


DEPUTATIONS  275 

Ursula  Harbord  would  march  in  the  van  of  the 
women. 

Pending  this  glorious  destiny,  Miss  Harbord 
acted  as  unsettler-in-general  of  Joan's  domestic 
instincts,  and  worried  Hughie  considerably. 

She  was  followed  into  the  room  by  Joan ;  very 
much  the  Joan  of  last  summer,  if  we  make  allow- 
ances for  the  distressing  appearance  presented  by 
a  young  woman  of  considerable  personal  attrac- 
tions who  is  compelled  by  Fashion's  decree,  for 
this  season  at  any  rate,  to  obscure  her  features 
under  a  hat  which  looks  like  an  unsuccessful 
compromise  between  a  waste-paper  basket  and  a 
dish-cover. 

"  Well,  John,"  she  inquired  in  her  friendly  fash- 
ion, "have  you  quite  settled  down  in  London  ?" 

"Aye,  mem." 

"Not  missing  Scotland?"  continued  Joan, 
peeling  off  her  white  gloves  and  sitting  down  in  an 
arm-chair. 

"Naething  to  speak  of,"  said  John. 

"I  thought,"  continued  Miss  Gaymer,  survey- 
ing Mr.  Coble's  Cimmerian  features,  "that  you 
had  perhaps  left  your  heart  there." 

"  Ma  hairt  ?  What  for  would  I  dae  a  thing  like 
that?"  enquired  the  literal  Mr.  Coble.  "A  hairt 
is  no  a  thing  a  body  can  dae  wi'oot,"  he  explained. 
."It's  no  like  a  rib.  Ye  jist  get  the  ane,  so  ye 
canna  afford  tae  get  leavin'  it  ony  place." 


276          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

Miss  Gaymer  smilingly  abandoned  the  topic, 
and  in  all  probability  the  ghost  of  Sydney  Smith 
chuckled. 

"When  are  you  going  to  pay  us  another  visit 
at  Manors  ?"  was  Joan's  next  question. 

"I'm  no  sure,"  said  Mr.  Goble.  "Mr.  Mar- 
rable  has  jist  given  me  notice." 

"Oh,  John!"  said  Joan,  "what  have  you  been 
doing  ?  Breaking  his  china  ?" 

"  Drinking  his  wine  ?"  suggested  Miss  Harbord, 
turning  from  a  scornful  inspection  of  Hughie's 
stock  of  current  literature. 

"I  doot  I'm  no  givin'  satisfaction,"  said 
John. 

"But,  John,  I  am  sure  you  are!"  said  Joan. 
"Was  that  the  reason  he  gave?" 

"He  said  he  was  givin'  up  keepin'  a  man- 
servant." 

Miss  Harbord,  who  had  been  craning  her  neck 
to  see  something  in  the  street,  turned  round 
sharply. 

"Why?   Has  he  been  losing  money?" 

"I  couldna  say,  mem,"  said  Mr.  Goble  wood- 
enly.  He  shared  his  master's  antipathy  to  Miss 
Harbord. 

That  lady  shook  her  head  resignedly. 

"I  thought  so!"  she  said.    "Joan,  dear — " 

At  this  moment  Hughie  entered,  and  Miss  Har- 
bord's  fire  was  diverted. 


DEPUTATIONS  277 

"Mr.  Marrable,  have  you  got  rid  of  that  cab- 
man ?"  she  enquired  with  truculence. 

"Rather!"  said  Hughie.  "He  went  like  a 
lamb." 

"  He  was  intoxicated,"  remarked  Miss  Harbord 
freezingly. 

"I  didn't  notice  it,"  said  Hughie.  "He  was 
quite  tractable.  Apparently  you  engaged  him  at 
Hyde  Park  Terrace  and  stopped  at  two  shops  on 
the  way." 

"That  is  correct." 

"And  you  gave  him  one  and  threepence  for  a 
drive  of  over  two  miles  and  a  stop  of  about  ten 
minutes." 

"  His  legal  fare.  We  employed  him  for  exactly 
half  an  hour." 

"  But  did  you  tell  him  that  you  were  engaging 
him  by  the  hour?" 

"  Of  course  not !  They  simply  crawl  if  you  do. 
You  might  have  known  that,  Mr.  Marrable." 

"Well,  it's  all  right  now,"  interposed  Joan 
cheerfully. 

"Mr.  Marrable,"  persisted  Miss  Harbord,  "I 
fear  you  were  weak  with  him.  How  much  did  you 
give  him  ?" 

"Nothing  out  of  the  way,"  said  Hughie  un- 
easily. "You'll  stay  to  lunch,  won't  you?  I  am 
expecting  the  Leroys  and  D'Arcy.  We  can  all  go 
on  to  a  matinee  afterwards." 


278         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

Miss  Harbord  assumed  the  expression  of  one 
who  is  not  to  be  won  over  by  fair  words,  and 
endeavoured  to  catch  Miss  Gaymer's  eye  —  an 
enterprise  which  failed  signally,  as  the  latter 
lady  rose  from  her  seat  and  strolled  to  the 
window. 

"Mr.  Marrable,"  began  Miss  Harbord,  taking 
up  her  parable  single-handed,  "Joan  wishes  to 
have  a  chat  with  you  about  money-matters." 

"No  I  don't,  Hughie,"  said  Miss  Gaymer 
promptly,  over  her  shoulder. 

"Well  then,  dear,"  said  Miss  Harbord  calmly, 
"you  ought  to.  Women  leave  these  things  to 
men  far  too  much  as  it  is.  Joan  has  an  old- 
fashioned  notion,"  she  added  to  Hughie,  "that 
it  is  not  quite  nice  for  girls  to  know  anything 
about  money-matters:  hence  her  reluctance. 
However,  I  will  conduct  her  case  for  her." 

Miss  Harbord  crossed  her  legs,  threw  herself 
back  in  her  chair  in  a  manner  which  demon- 
strated most  conclusively  her  contempt  for  ap- 
pearances and  feminine  ideas  of  decorum,  and 
began : 

"Tell  me,  Mr.  Marrable,  what  interest  does 
Joan  get  on  her  money  ?" 

Hughie  gaped  feebly.  Half  an  hour  ago  he 
had  put  Mr.  Lance  Gaymer  to  the  door  for  an 
almost  precisely  similar  question.  But  Lance 
Gaymer  was  a  man,  and  Miss  Harbord,  conceal 


DEPUTATIONS  279 

the  fact  as  she  might,  was  a  woman ;  and  Hughie's 
old  helplessness  paralysed  him  once  more. 

"The  usual  rate  of  interest,"  he  said  lamely, 
"  is  about  four  per  cent." 

Ursula  Harbord  nodded  her  head,  as  who 
should  say,  "I  expected  that!"  and  produced  a 
crumpled  newspaper  from  her  muff. 

"That,"  she  said  almost  indulgently,  "reveals 
your  ignorance  of  the  world,  Mr.  Marrable.  If 
you  mixed  a  little  more  in  affairs,  and  followed 
some  regular  occupation,  you  would  have  more 
opportunities  of  discovering  things  for  yourself, 
and  so  be  spared  the  indignity  —  I  suppose  you 
consider  it  an  indignity  ?  —  of  having  to  be  ad- 
vised by  a  woman." 

The  afflicted  Hughie  murmured  something 
about  it  being  a  pleasure. 

"  Now  here,"  continued  Miss  Harbord,  slapping 
the  newspaper  as  an  East-End  butcher  slaps 
the  last  beef-steak  at  his  Saturday  night  auc- 
tion, "I  have  the  report  of  the  half-yearly  meeting 
of  the  International  Trading  Company,  Limited, 
where  a  dividend  of  seven  per  cent  was  declared, 
making  a.  dividend  on  the  whole  year  of  fourteen 
per  cent.  Now  do  you  see  what  I  —  what  Joan 
wants  ?" 

"  Hughie,"  said  Joan,  who  was  making  a  tour 
of  inspection  of  the  room,  "  where  did  you  get  this 
lovely  leopard- skin  ?  Have  I  seen  it  before  ?" 


280          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"Shot  it,  Joey.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Har- 
bord  ?" 

"Do  you  see  what  Joan  wants  you  to  do?" 
repeated  that  financial  Amazon. 

"Afraid  I  don't,  quite.  I'll  get  on  to  it  in  a 
minute,  though,"  replied  the  docile  Hughie. 

"Surely,  the  whole  thing  is  quite  clear!  You 
must  take  Joanls  capital  out  of  whatever  it  is 
in  and  buy  shares  in  The  International  Trading 
Company  with  it.  And  be  sure  you  order  pre- 
ference shares,  Mr.  Marrable.  They  are  the  best 
sort  to  get.  That  is  all ;  but  I  ought  not  to  have 
to  point  these  things  out  to  you." 

Hughie  surveyed  his  preceptress  in  an  un- 
decided fashion.  Was  it  worth  while  endeavour- 
ing to  explain  to  her  a  few  of  the  first  principles 
of  finance,  or  would  it  be  simpler  to  grin  and 
bear  it  ?  He  decided  on  the  latter  alternative. 

"The  shares,"  continued  Miss  Harbord,  hav- 
ing evidently  decided  to  follow  up  her  whips 
with  a  few  selected  scorpions,  "should  be  bought 
as  cheap  as  possible.  They  go  up  and  down,  you 
know,  like  —  a  — " 

"Monkey  on  a  stick  ?"  suggested  Hughie,  with 
the  air  of  one  anxious  to  help. 

Miss  Harbord  smiled  indulgently. 

"  No,  no !  Like  a  —  a  barometer,  let  us  say ; 
and  you  have  to  watch  your  opportunity.  There 
is  a  thing  called  '  par'  which  they  go  to,  — any- 


DEPUTATIONS  281 

body  will  tell  you  what  it  is,  —  and  that  is  a  very 
good  time  to  buy  them." 

Hughie,  fighting  for  breath,  rose  and  joined 
Joan  in  the  window  recess,  while  Miss  Harbord, 
with  much  ostentatious  crackling,  folded  up  the 
newspaper  and  put  it  away. 

"Hughie,"  said  Joan,  under  cover  of  the  noise, 
"you  are  angry." 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  Hughie,  wiping  his  eyes 
furtively.  "A  bit  flummoxed  —  that's  all.  No 
idea  your  friend  was  so  up  in  these  things." 

"She  is  clever,  is  n't  she  ?"  said  Joan,  with  un- 
affected sincerity.  "But,  Hughie  dear,  don't 
bother  about  it  if  it  worries  you.  My  affairs  must 
be  a  fearful  nuisance  to  you,  but  Ursula  was  so 
keen  that  I  should  come  — " 

"I'm  glad  you  did,  Joey.  It  was  worth  it," 
said  Hughie  simply. 

"Of  course,"  continued  the  unlearned  Miss 
Gaymer,  "  to  people  like  Ursula  these  things  are 
as  easy  as  falling  off  a  log,  but  for  you  and  me, 
who  know  nothing  about  business,  they're  pretty 
stiff  to  tackle,  are  n't  they  ?" 

" Quite  so,"  agreed  Hughie  meekly.  "But  look 
here,  Joey,"  he  continued,  "are  you  really  in 
want  of  money  ?" 

"Of  course  she  is!"  said  Miss  Harbord,  over- 
hearing and  resuming  the  offensive. 

"I  could  do  with  a  few  more  frocks,  Hughie," 


282          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

said  Miss  Gaymer  wistfully,  "  if  it  would  n't  be 
a  bother  to  change  those  investments  about  a  bit, 
as  Ursula  advises.  Still,  if  it  can't  be  done,  we'll 
say  no  more  about  it." 

"Will  another  hundred  a-year  be  any  use  to 
you?"  said  Hughie  suddenly. 

"Oh,  Hughie,  I  should  think  so!  Can  it  be 
managed  without  a  fearful  upset?"  cried  Miss 
Gaymer,  her  eyes  already  brightening  over  a 
vista  of  blouse- lengths  and  double-widths. 

"Yes,"  said  Hughie  shortly.  "I'll  —  I'll  make 
the  necessary  changes  and  see  that  the  cash  is 
paid  into  your  banking  account." 

"  You  dear !"  said  Miss  Gaymer,  with  sincerity. 

"A  hundred  pounds?  It  might  be  more!" 
observed  the  daughter  of  the  horse-leech  on  the 
sofa.  Fourteen  per  cent  still  rankled  in  her 
Napoleonic  brain. 

Hughie  crossed  to  the  writing-table  and  tore 
up  a  telegraph-form. 

"Capt'n  Leroy!"  announced  Mr.  Goble's 
voice  in  the  doorway. 

That  easy-going  paladin  entered  the  room, 
and  intimated  that  his  wife  had  sent  him  along 
to  say  that  she  would  arrive  in  ten  minutes. 

"That  means  twenty,"  said  Joan.  "Ursula, 
we  have  just  time  to  run  round  and  see  that  hat 
we  thought  we'd  better  not  decide  about  until 
we  had  heard  from  Hughie  about  the  thing  we 


DEPUTATIONS  283 

came  to  see  him  about.  Now  I  can  try  it  on  with 
a  clear  conscience.  Back  directly,  Hughie!" 

She  flitted  out,  the  prospective  hundred  pounds 
obviously  burning  a  hole  in  her  pocket  (or  wher- 
ever woman  in  the  present  era  of  fashion  keeps 
her  money),  followed  by  Miss  Harbord. 

Hughie  turned  to  Leroy. 

"Take  a  cigarette,  old  man,"  he  said,  "and  sit 
down  with  a  glass  of  sherry  while  I  do  myself  up 
for  lunch.  Been  down  at  Putney." 

Leroy  obeyed.  When  Hughie  returned  from 
his  bedroom  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  he  found 
that  Mrs.  Leroy  had  arrived.  She  and  her  hus- 
band were  engaged  in  a  low- toned  conversation, 
which  they  broke  off  rather  abruptly  on  their 
host's  entrance. 

Hughie  shook  hands,  and  sweeping  some  news- 
papers off  the  sofa,  offered  his  latest-arrived 
guest  a  seat. 

"No,  thanks,  Hughie,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy;  "I 
prefer  to  look  out  of  the  window." 

She  walked  across  the  room  and  began  to  gaze 
down  into  the  street  with  her  back  to  Hughie. 
Her  husband,  evidently  struck  with  the  suitability 
of  this  attitude,  rose  and  joined  her. 

"The  fact  is,  Hughie,"  began  Mrs.  Leroy,  star- 
ing resolutely  at  the  house  opposite,  "  Jack  and  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  like  a  father  and  mother,  and 
I  can  do  it  more  easily  if  I  look  the  other  way." 


284          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"Same  here,"  corroborated  Leroy  gruffly. 

Hughie  started,  and  surveyed  the  guilty-looking 
pair  of  backs  before  him  with  an  uneasy  suspicion. 
Surely  he  was  not  going  to  be  treated  to  a  third 
variation  on  the  same  theme! 

"Go  on,  Jack!"  was  Mrs.  Leroy 's  next  re- 
mark. 

"Can't  be  done,  m'dear,"  replied  the  gentle- 
man, after  an  obvious  effort. 

"Well,  Hughie,"  continued  Mrs.  Leroy  briskly, 
"as  this  coward  has  failed  me,  I  must  say  it 
myself.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  people  are  talk- 
ing." 

"Ursula  Harbord,  for  instance,"  said  Hughie 
drily. 

"Yes.    How  did  you  know ?" 

"She  delivered  a  lecture  to  me  this  morning. 
Gave  me  to  understand  that  she  darkly  suspects 
me  of  being  a  knave,  and  made  no  attempt  to 
conceal  her  conviction  that  I  am  a  fool." 

"Well,  of  course  that's  all  nonsense,"  said  Mrs. 
Leroy  to  a  fly  on  the  window-pane ;  "  but  really, 
Hughie,  with  all  the  money  that  her  Uncle 
Jimmy  left  her,  you  ought  to  be  able  to  give  Joey 
more  than  you  do,  should  n't  you  ?  The  child  has 
to  live  in  quite  a  small  way  —  not  really  poor, 
you  know,  but  hardly  as  an  heiress  ought  to  live. 
You  give  her  surprisingly  small  interest  on  her 
money,  Jack  says  —  did  n't  you,  Jack  ?" 


DEPUTATIONS  285 

Captain  Leroy  made  no  reply,  but  the  deep 
shade  of  carmine  on  the  back  of  his  neck  said 
"Sneak!"  as  plainly  as  possible. 

"And  you  know  he  would  be  the  last  to  say 
anything  against  you  —  would  n't  you,  Jack  ?" 

"Rather!"  said  Leroy,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

"Hughie,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  turning  impul- 
sively, "won't  you  confide  in  me?" 

Hughie  kicked  a  coal  in  the  grate  in  his  usual 
fashion,  and  sighed. 

"I  can't,  really"  he  said. 

"  Fact  is,  old  man,"  broke  in  Leroy,  in  response 
to  his  wife's  appealing  glances,  "we  did  n't  want 
to  say  anything  at  all,  but  the  missis  thought  it 
best  —  considerin'  the  way  people  are  talkin', 
and  all  that.  Can  7  be  of  any  use  ?  Been  specu- 
latin',  or  anything?" 

"No,  Jack,  I  haven't,"  said  Hughie  shortly. 

Mrs.  Leroy  gave  a  helpless  look  at  her  husband, 
and  said  desperately: 

"  But,  Hughie,  we  can't  leave  things  like  this ! 
You  simply  don't  know  what  stories  are  going 
about.  It  is  ruining  your  chances  with  Joey,  too. 
She  thinks  you  are  a  noodle." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Hughie. 

"Well,  look  here,"  said  Leroy,  "can't  you  give 
us  some  sort  of  explanation  —  some  yarn  we 
could  put  about  the  place  to  account  for  this 
state  of  things  — " 


286          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"  What  state  of  things  ?"  said  Hughie  doggedly. 
He  was  in  an  unpleasant  temper. 

"Well,  Hughie,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  keeping  hers, 
"here  is  Joan,  known  to  have  been  left  a  lot  of 
money  for  her  immediate  use,  —  she  admits  it 
herself,  —  living  quite  humbly  and  cheaply,  and 
obviously  not  well  off.  People  are  asking  why. 
There  are  two  explanations  given.  One,  the  more 
popular,  is  that  you  have  embezzled  or  speculated 
the  money  all  away.  The  other,  which  prevails 
among  the  elite  — ' 

"The  people  who  are  really  in  the  know,  you 
know,"  explained  Leroy. 

"Yes:  they  say,"  continued  his  wife,  "that 
Joan  won't  marry  you,  so  you  have  retaliated 
by  —  by—  " 

"By  cutting  off  supplies,"  suggested  Hughie. 

"Yes,  until - 

"Until  she  is  starved  into  submission  — eh?" 

"That's  about  the  size  of  it,  old  son,"  said 
Leroy. 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Finally  Hughie 
said :  — 

"Well,  it's  a  pretty  story;  but,  honestly,  I'm 
not  in  a  position  to  contradict  it  at  present." 

Mrs.  Leroy  desisted  from  plaiting  the  window- 
cord,  swung  round,  walked  deliberately  to  the 
fireplace,  and  laid  a  hand  on  Hughie's  arm. 

"Hughie,"  she  said,  in  tones  which  her  hus- 


DEPUTATIONS  «87 

band  subsequently  affirmed  would  have  drawn 
ducks  off  a  pond,  "what  have  you  done?  Tell 
us!" 

Leroy  followed  his  wife  across  the  room.  "  Get 
it  off  your  chest,  old  man,"  he  said,  with  the  air 
of  a  father  confessor. 

Hughie  smiled  gratefully.  He  took  Mrs.  Le- 
roy's  two  hands  into  one  of  his  own,  and  laid  the 
other  on  Jack  Leroy's  shoulder. 

"Jack  and  Milly,"  he  said  earnestly,  "my  two 
pals !  — I  would  rather  tell  you  than  anybody  else ; 
but  —  I  simply  can't !  It's  not  my  secret!  You'll 
probably  find  out  all  about  it  some  day.  At  pre- 
sent I  must  ask  you  to  accept  my  assurance  that 
I'm  not  so  black  as  I'm  painted." 

"Hughie,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  "you  are  simply 
stupid !  We  have  not  come  to  you  out  of  idle 
curiosity  — " 

"I  know  that,"  said  Hughie  heartily. 

"And  I  think  you  might  give  us  some  sort  of 
an  inkling  —  a  sort  of  favourable  bulletin  —  that 
I  could  pass  on  to  Joey,  at  any  rate  — " 

"Joey!"  said  Hughie  involuntarily;  "Lord 
forbid!" 

Mrs.  Leroy,  startled  by  the  vehemence  of  his 
tone,  paused;  and  her  husband  added  de- 
jectedly, — 

"All  right,  old  man!  Let's  drop  it!  Sorry  you 
could  n't  see  your  way  to  confide  in  us.  Would  n't 


288          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

have  gone  any  further.  Rather  sick  about  the 
whole  business  —  eh  ?  No  wonder !  Money  is 
the  devil,  anyway." 

Somehow  Leroy's  words  hit  Hughie  harder 
than  anything  that  had  been  said  yet.  He  wa- 
vered. After  all,  — 

"We've  bought  the  hat,  and  I'm  perfectly 
ravenous,"  announced  Joan,  appearing  in  the 
doorway.  "And  we've  brought  Mr.  D'Arcy. 
Hughie,  are  those  plover's  eggs?  Ooh!" 

This  was  no  atmosphere  for  the  breathing  of 
confidential  secrets.  The  party  resumed  its  usual 
demeanour  of  off-hand  British  insouciance,  and 
began  to  gather  round  the  luncheon-table.  Only 
Mr.  D'Arcy's  right  eyebrow  asked  a  question  of 
Mrs.  Leroy,  which  was  answered  by  a  slight  but 
regretful  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

Hughie's  apartment  was  L-shaped,  and  the 
feast  was  spread  in  the  smaller  arm,  out  of  the 
way  of  draughts  and  doorways.  Consequently 
any  one  entering  the  room  would  fail  to  see  the 
luncheon  table  unless  he  turned  to  his  left  and 
walked  round  a  corner. 

Hughie  was  helping  the  plover's  eggs,  —  it  is 
to  be  feared  that  Miss  Gaymer  received  a  Benja- 
min's portion  of  the  same,  —  when  Mr.  Goble 
suddenly  appeared  at  his  elbow  and  whispered 
in  his  ear,  - 

"Him  again!" 


DEPUTATIONS  289 

Muttering  an  apology,  Hughie  left  the  table 
and  walked  round  the  corner  to  the  other  arm  of 
the  room.  Lance  Gaymer  had  just  entered.  His 
face  was  flushed  and  his  eyes  glittered,  and 
Hughie' s  half -uttered  invitation  to  him  to  come 
in  and  have  some  lunch  died  away  upon  his  lips. 

"Hallo,  Lance!"  he  said  lamely. 

Mr.  Gaymer  replied,  in  the  deliberate  and  por- 
tentously solemn  tones  of  a  man  who  is  three 
parts  drunk,  — 

"I  understand  you  have  got  a  party  on  here." 

"Yes,"  said  Hughie,  endeavouring  to  edge  his 
visitor  through  the  doorway. 

"What  I  want  to  say,"  continued  Mr.  Gaymer 
in  rising  tones,  "  is  that  I  accuse  you  of  embez- 
zling my  sister's  property,  and  I'm  going  to  make 
things  damned  hot  for  you.  Yes  —  you !  Go  and 
tell  that  to  your  luncheon-party  round  the  cor- 
ner!" he  concluded  with  a  snort.  "And  — ghig 
—  glug-glug!" 

By  this  time  he  had  been  judiciously  backed 
into  the  passage,  almost  out  of  ear-shot  of  those 
in  the  room.  Simultaneously  Mr.  Goble's  large 
hand  closed  upon  his  mouth  from  behind,  and 
having  thus  acquired  a  good  purchase,  turned 
its  owner  deftly  round  and  conducted  him  down- 
stairs. 

Death-like  silence  reigned  at  the  luncheon- 
table.  Hughie  wondered  how  much  they  had 


290          THE   UNJUST  STEWARD 

heard.  Not  that  it  mattered  greatly,  for  Master 
Lance's  accusations,  making  allowances  for  alco- 
holic directness,  partook  very  largely  of  the  nature 
of  those  already  levelled  at  Hughie  by  more  con- 
ventional deputations,  rui 

Before  returning  to  his  seat,  Hughie  crossed 
to  the  window  and  looked  down  into  the  street. 

Mr.  Lance  Gaymer  was  being  assisted  into  a 
waiting  hansom  by  the  kindly  hands  of  Mr.  Guy 
Haliburton. 

Hughie,  having  seen  all  he  expected  to  see, 
returned  with  faltering  steps  to  his  duties  as  a 
host. 

It  was  a  delicate  moment,  calling  for  the  exer- 
cise of  much  tact.  Even  Mildred  Leroy  hesitated. 
Joan  had  flushed  red,  whether  with  shame,  or 
anger,  or  sympathy,  it  was  hard  to  say.  Mr. 
D'Arcy  regarded  her  curiously. 

But  heavy-footed  husbands  sometimes  rush  in, 
with  success,  where  the  most  wary  and  diplomatic 
wives  fear  to  tread.  Jack  Leroy  cleared  his 
throat. 

"Now,  Hughie,  my  son,"  he  observed,  "when 
you've  quite  done  interviewin'  all  your  pals  on  the 
door-mat,  perhaps  you'll  give  your  guests  a 
chance.  With  so  many  old  friends  collected  round 
your  table  like  this,  we  want  to  drink  your  health, 
young-fellow-my-lad !  Fill  up  your  glass,  Miss 
Harbord!  No  heel-taps,  Milly!" 


DEPUTATIONS  291 

There  was  an  irrelevant  bonhomie  about  this 
whole  speech  which  struck  exactly  the  right  note. 
Mrs.  Leroy  glanced  gratefully  at  her  husband, 
and  lifted  her  glass.    The  others  did  the  same. 
But  it  was  Joan  who  spoke  first. 

"Hughie!"  she  cried,  with  glowing  eyes. 

"Hughie!"  cried  every  one.    "Good  health!" 

In  the  times  of  our  prosperity  our  friends  are 
always  critical,  frequently  unjust,  generally  a 
nuisance,  and  sometimes  utterly  detestable.  But 
there  is  no  blinking  the  fact  that  they  are  a  very 
present  help  in  trouble. 

Hughie  suddenly  felt  himself  unable  to  speak. 
He  bowed  his  head  dumbly,  and  made  a  furious 
onslaught  upon  a  plover's  egg. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

IN  WHICH  CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG,  AND 
JOAN  MISSES  HER  CUE 

HUGHIE  spent  the  next  few  months  chiefly  in 
wondering. 

He  wondered  what  Mr.  Haliburton's  game 
might  be.  What  was  he  doing  behind  Lance 
Gaymer  ?  That  the  latter  might  consider  himself 
justified  in  poking  his  nose  into  his  only  sister's 
affairs  was  understandable  enough  —  but  why 
drag  in  Haliburton  ?  Was  that  picturesque  ruf- 
fian a  genuine  friend  of  Lance's,  enlisted  in  a 
brotherly  endeavour  to  readjust  Jimmy  Mar- 
rable's  exceedingly  unsymmetrical  disposition 
of  his  property,  or  was  he  merely  a  member  of 
that  far-reaching  and  conspicuously  able  fra- 
ternity (known  in  sporting  circles  as  "The 
Nuts"),  to  whom  all  mankind  is  fair  game,  and 
whose  one  article  of  faith  is  a  trite  proverb  on  the 
subject  of  a  fool  and  his  money,  pursuing  his 
ordinary  avocation  of  "making  a  bit"  ?  In  other 
words,  was  Lance  Gaymer  pulling  Haliburton, 
or  was  Haliburton  pushing  Lance  Gaymer  ? 

Hughie  also  wondered  about  a  good  many  other 
things,  notably  — 

(a)  Joan. 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    293 

(b)  More   Joan;  coupled   with   dim   specula- 
tions as  to  how  it  was  all  going  to  end. 

(c)  More  Joan  still;  together  with  a  growing 
desire  to  go  off  again  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  and 
lose  himself. 

But  for  the  present  life  followed  an  uneventful 
course.  Since  Lance's  display  of  fireworks  at 
Hughie's  luncheon-party,  Hughie's  friends  had 
studiously  avoided  the  mention  of  the  word  money 
in  their  late  host's  presence;  and  Master  Lance 
himself,  evidently  realizing  that,  however  excel- 
lent his  intentions  or  pure  his  motives,  he  had 
made  an  unmitigated  ass  of  himself,  avoided 
Hughie's  society  entirely. 

Of  Joan  Hughie  saw  little  until  the  beginning 
of  October,  when  he  arrived  at  Manors  to  shoot 
pheasants. 

He  was  greeted,  almost  with  tears  of  affection, 
by  John  Alexander  Goble,  who  had  been  re- 
tained by  Jack  Leroy  as  butler  when  Hughie  re- 
linquished his  services;  and  found  the  house 
packed  with  young  men  and  maidens,  the  bil- 
liard-room strewn  with  many-hued  garments, 
and  the  atmosphere  charged  with  the  electricity 
of  some  great  enterprise  in  the  making. 

"Theatricals!"  explained  Mrs.  Leroy  re- 
signedly, as  she  handed  him  his  tea.  "Tab- 
leaux, rather.  At  least,  it  is  a  sort  of  variety  en- 
tertainment," she  concluded  desperately,  "in  the 


294         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

Parish  Hall.  In  aid  of  some  charity  or  other,  but 
that  does  n't  matter." 

"Joey's  latest,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Yes :  the  child  is  wild  about  it.  What,  sweet 
one  ?  "  (This  to  the  infant  Hildegard,  in  an  atti- 
tude of  supplication  at  her  side.)  "  Cake  ?  cer- 
tainly not !  You  are  going  out  to  tea  at  the  Rec- 
tory in  half  an  hour.  Do  you  remember  what 
happened  the  last  time  you  had  two  teas  ?  " 

Stodger  reflected,  and  remembered;  but 
pleaded,  in  extenuation,  — 

"But  I  did  it  all  at  the  Rectory,  mummy." 

"She  was  sick,"  explained  her  sister,  turning 
politely  to  Hughie. 

"Twice!"  corroborated  Stodger,  not  without 
pride. 

"Yes;  in  a  decent  basin  provided  by  the  par- 
ish," continued  Duckies  hazily.  She  had  recently 
begun  to  attend  church,  and  her  reading  during 
the  sermon  had  opened  to  her  a  new  and  fertile 
field  for  quotation. 

"Tell  me  more  about  the  tableaux,  Jack,"  said 
Hughie  hastily,  as  Mrs.  Leroy  accelerated  her 
ritualistic  progeny's  departure  upstairs. 

"They  're  spendin'  lashings  of  money  on  them. 
Won't  make  a  farthing  profit,  I  don't  suppose; 
but  the  show  should  be  all  right.  They  're  get- 
ting a  'pro.'  down  to  stage-manage  'em." 

"My  word,  they  are  going  it!   Hallo,  Joey!" 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    295 

Miss  Gaymer's  entrance  brought  theatrical 
conversation  up  to  fever  heat ;  and  for  the  rest  of 
the  meal,  and  indeed  for  the  next  few  days, 
Hughie  lived  and  breathed  in  a  world  composed 
of  rickety  scenery,  refractory  pulleys,  and  hot 
size,  inhabited  by  people  who  were  always  talk- 
ing, usually  cross,  and  most  intermittent  in  their 
feeding-times. 

One  afternoon  Joan  took  him  down  to  the  Hall, 
ostensibly  as  a  companion,  in  reality  to  shift  some 
large  flats  of  scenery,  too  wide  for  feminine  arms 
to  span. 

Captain  Leroy  had  already  offered  himself  in 
that  capacity,  but  his  services  had  been  brutally 
declined,  on  the  ground  that  the  scenery  was  not 
concave. 

"The  programmes  are  being  printed  to-day. 
We  are  going  to  have  the  tableaux  in  the  first 
half,"  Joan  rattled  on,  as  they  walked  through 
the  plantations.  "Well-known  pictures,  you 
know.  Some  of  them  are  perfectly  lovely.  I  am 
in  three,"  she  added,  rather  naively. 

Hughie  asked  for  details. 

"Well,  the  first  one  is  to  be  The  Mirror  of 
Venus  —  a  lot  of  girls  looking  into  a  pool." 

"Are  you  in  that  ?  " 

"Not  much!  That  is  for  all  the  riff-raff  who 
have  crowded  in  without  being  invited  —  the 
Mellishes,  and  the  Crumfords,  and  the  Joblings. 


296         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

(You  know  the  lot !)  There  's  another  tableau 
for  their  men :  such  horrors,  my  dear !  But  that 
disposes  of  them  for  Part  One:  they  don't  have 
to  appear  again  until  the  waxworks.  Then  there 's 
a  perfectly  sweet  one  —  The  Gambler's  Wife." 

"Who  is  she  to  be?" 

"Sylvia  Tarrant.  She  sits  under  a  tree  in  an 
old  garden,  looking  sad,"  gabbled  Joan  without 
pausing,  "  while  her  husband  gambles  with  some 
other  men  on  the  lawn  behind.  You'll  cry!  I 
come  after  that  —  Two  Strings  to  her  Bow.  A 
girl  walking  arm-in-arm  with  two  men.  She  looks 
quite  pleased  with  herself :  the  men  have  both  got 
camelious  hump." 

"Who  are  they?" 

"  It 's  not  quite  settled  yet.  I  told  them  they 
could  fight  it  out  among  themselves.  I  expect  it 
will  be  Binks  and  Cherub,  though.  But  they 
must  decide  soon,  because  time  is  getting  on,  and 
Mr.  Haliburton  says  — " 

"Who?" 

"Mr.  Haliburton." 

"Haliburton?"  said  Hughie,  stopping  short. 

"Yes.  Didn't  you  know?  He  is  stage-man- 
aging us.  He  came  down  this  morning." 

"Is  he  staying  in  the  house?"  was  Hughie's 
next  question. 

"No:  we  could  n't  get  him  in.  He  's  putting 
up  at  The  Bull,  in  the  village,"  said  Joan.  "  I  wish 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    297 

we  could  have  found  room  for  him,"  she  added, 
with  intention.  She  knew  that  most  men  neither 
loved  Mr.  Haliburton  nor  approved  of  their  girl 
friends  becoming  intimate  with  him;  and  this 
alone  was  quite  sufficient  to  predispose  her  in 
that  misjudged  hero's  favour. 

In  her  heart  of  hearts  Miss  Gaymer  was  just  a 
little  eprise  with  Mr.  Haliburton,  and,  as  be- 
comes one  who  is  above  such  things,  just  a  lit- 
tle ashamed  of  the  fact.  She  had  found  some- 
thing rather  compelling  in  his  dark  eyes  and  silky 
ways,  but,  being  anything  but  a  susceptible  young 
person,  rather  resented  her  own  weakness.  Still, 
the  fact  remained.  She  had  seen  a  good  deal  of 
Mr.  Haliburton  in  London  —  how,  she  could 
hardly  explain,  though  possibly  Mr.  Haliburton 
could  have  done  so  —  and  had  listened,  not  al- 
together unmoved,  to  tales  of  a  patrimony  re- 
nounced for  Art's  sake,  of  an  ancestral  home 
barred  by  a  hot-headed  but  lovable  "old  pater" ; 
and  to  various  reflections,  half-humorous,  half- 
pathetic,  on  the  subject  of  what  might  have  been 
if  this  world  were  only  a  juster  place. 

Joan,  who  did  not  know  that  Mr.  Haliburton's 
ancestral  home  had  been  situated  over  a  tobac- 
conist's shop  somewhere  between  the  back  of 
Oxford  Street  and  Soho  Square,  and  that  his  "  old 
pater"  had  but  lately  retired  from  the  post  of 
head  waiter  at  a  theatrical  restaurant  in  Maiden 


298         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

Lane,  in  order  to  devote  his  undivided  attention 
to  the  more  perfect  colouring  of  an  already  carne- 
lian  proboscis,  felt  distinctly  sorry  for  her  ro- 
mantic friend.  When  a  young  girl  begins  to  feel 
sorry  for  a  man,  the  position  is  full  of  possibili- 
ties; and  when  heavy-handed  and  purblind  au- 
thority steps  in  and  forbids  the  banns,  so  to  speak, 
the  possibilities  become  probabilities,  and,  in 
extreme  cases,  certainties. 

Joan  glanced  obliquely  at  Hughie.  That  im- 
passive young  man  was  advancing  with  measured 
strides,  frowning  ferociously.  She  continued,  not 
altogether  displeased :  — 

"The  next  tableau  is  Flora  Macdonald's  Fare- 
well —  very  Scotch.  A  man  in  a  kilt  stands  in 
the  centre  — " 

She  babbled  on,  but  Hughie's  attention  wan- 
dered. 

Haliburton  again!  He  did  not  like  the  idea. 
Consequently  it  was  not  altogether  surprising  if, 
when  Joan  paused  to  enquire  whether  he  re- 
garded Queen  Elizabeth  or  a  suffragette  as  the 
most  suitable  vehicle  for  one  of  Mrs.  Jarley's 
most  cherished  "wheezes,"  Hughie  should  have 
replied :  — 

"  Joan,  how  did  that  chap  come  here  ?  Was  he 
engaged  by  you,  or  did  he  offer  himself  ?" 

"He  offered  himself  —  very  kindly!"  said 
Joan  stiffly. 


CHARITY   SUFFERETH  LONG    299 

"I  suppose  he  is  being  paid?" 

"  Yes,  of  course  —  a  guinea  or  two.  It 's  his 
profession,"  said  Joan  impatiently.  "Do  you 
object?" 

The  occasion  called  for  considerable  tact,  and 
poor  heavy-handed  Hughie  sighed  in  anticipa- 
tion. Joan  heard  him. 

"What  is  the  trouble?"  she  asked,  more 
amused  than  angry.  "  Out  with  it,  old  Conscien- 
tiousness?" 

"Joey,"  said  Hughie,  "I  don't  like  the  idea  of 
your  taking  up  with  that  chap." 

On  the  whole,  it  could  not  have  been  put 
worse. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Miss  Gaymer  scornfully, 
"that  it 's  not  women  who  are  spiteful,  but  men. 
I  wonder  why  every  male  I  know  is  so  down  on 
poor  Mr.  Haliburton.  Silly  children  like  Binks 
and  Cherub  I  can  understand,  but  you,  Hughie 
—  you  ought  to  be  above  that  sort  of  thing. 
What 's  the  matter  with  the  man,  that  you  all 
abuse  him  so?  Tell  me!" 

Hughie's  reply  to  this  tirade  was  lame  and 
unconvincing.  The  modern  maiden  is  so  amaz- 
ingly worldly-wise  on  various  matters  on  the  sub- 
ject of  which  she  can  have  had  no  other  infor- 
mant than  her  own  intuitions,  that  she  is  apt  to 
scout  the  suggestion  that  there  are  certain  phases 
of  life  of  which  happily  she  as  yet  knows  nothing ; 


300          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

and  any  attempt  to  hint  the  same  to  her  is  scorn- 
fully greeted  as  a  piece  of  masculine  superiority. 
Consequently  Joey  thought  she  knew  all  about 
Mr.  Haliburton;  wherein  she  was  manifestly 
wrong,  but  not  altogether  to  be  blamed ;  for  when 
your  knowledge  of  human  nature,  so  far  as  it 
goes,  is  well-nigh  perfect,  it  is  difficult  for  you  to 
believe  that  it  does  not  go  all  the  way. 

It  was  a  most  unsatisfactory  conversation.  All 
Hughie  did  was  to  reiterate  his  opinion  of  Mr. 
Haliburton  without  being  able  (or  willing)  to 
furnish  any  fresh  facts  in  support  of  it;  and  the 
only  apparent  result  was  to  prejudice  Joan  rather 
more  violently  in  Haliburton's  favour  than  be- 
fore, and  to  make  Hughie  feel  like  a  backbiter 
and  a  busybody.  It  was  a  relief  when  Joan 
abruptly  changed  the  conversation,  and  said :  — 

"Hughie,  have  you  seen  anything  of  Lance 
lately?" 

No,  Hughie  had  not.   "Why?" 

"I  'm  bothered  about  him,"  said  Joan,  de- 
scending from  her  high  horse  and  slipping  into 
what  may  be  called  her  confidential  mood.  "  He 
used  to  write  to  me  pretty  regularly,  even  after  he 
married  that  freak,  and  we  were  always  fond  of 
one  another,  even  though  we  quarrelled  some- 
times. But  he  seems  to  have  dropped  out  of 
things  altogether  lately.  Do  you  know  what  he 
is  doing?" 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    301 

"Can't  say,  I  'm  sure,"  said  Hughie. 

"Could  you  find  out  for  me?" 

"Of  course  I  will,"  said  Hughie,  quite  forget- 
ting the  present  awkwardness  of  his  relations 
with  Lance  in  the  light  of  the  joyous  fact  that 
Lance's  sister  had  just  asked  him  to  do  her  a  ser- 
vice. "I'll  go  and  look  him  up.  He  may  be  ill, 
or  short  of  cash.  But  can't  you  get  news  of  him 
from  —  from  — " 

He  stopped  suddenly.  He  had  been  about  to 
ask  a  question  which  had  just  struck  him  as 
rather  ungenerous. 

"You  mean  from  Mr.  Haliburton  ?"  said  Joan, 
with  her  usual  directness.  "I  did  ask  him,  but 
he  says  he  has  seen  nothing  of  Lance  for  quite  a 
long  time ;  so  I  'm  afraid  I  must  bother  you, 
Hughie.  I  don't  like  to,  because  I  know  you 
won't  want  to  go  out  of  your  way  on  his  account, 
after  - 

"Never  mind  that!"  said  Hughie  hastily. 
"I  '11  go  and  look  him  up." 

Joan  turned  to  him  gratefully. 

"You 're  a  good  sort,  Hughie,"  she  said.  "I 
don't  know  what  I  should  do  without  you." 

Hughie  glowed  foolishly.  Her  words  did  not 
mean  anything,  of  course;  still,  they  warmed 
him  for  the  time  being.  He  never  thought  of 
making  capital  out  of  Joan's  impulsive  outbursts 
of  affection.  He  regarded  them  as  a  sort  of  con- 


302          THE   UNJUST  STEWARD 

solation  prize  —  nothing  more.  He  had  never 
attempted  to  make  love  to  her  since  his  first  re- 
buff. The  memory  of  that  undignified  squabble 
still  made  him  tingle,  and  in  any  case  it  would 
never  have  occurred  to  him  to  renew  the  attack. 
Man-like,  he  had  taken  for  granted  the  rather 
large  proposition  that  a  woman  invariably  means 
what  she  says.  To  pester  Joan  with  further  at- 
tentions, especially  in  his  exceptional  position, 
savoured  to  him  of  meanness. 

For  all  that,  the  girl  and  he  seemed  of  late  to 
have  adjusted  their  relations  with  one  another. 
Joan  never  played  with  him  now,  encouraging 
him  one  moment  and  flouting  him  the  next,  as  in 
the  case  of  most  of  her  faithful  band.  Her  attitude 
was  that  of  a  good  comrade.  She  was  content  to 
sit  silent  in  his  company,  which  is  a  sound  test  of 
friendship ;  she  brought  to  him  her  little  troubles, 
and  occasionally  ministered  to  his ;  and  in  every 
way  she  showed  him  that  she  liked  and  trusted 
him.  A  vainer  or  cleverer  man  would  have  taken 
heart  of  grace  at  these  signs.  Hughie  did  not. 
He  was  Joan's  guardian,  and  as  such  entitled  to 
her  confidence ;  also  her  very  good  friend,  and  as 
such  entitled  to  her  affection.  That  was  all.  It 
was  rotten  luck,  of  course,  that  she  was  not  suffi- 
ciently fond  of  him  to  marry  him,  but  then  rotten 
luck  is  a  thing  one  must  be  prepared  for  in  this 
world.  He  would  get  accustomed  to  the  situa- 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    303 

tion  in  time:  meanwhile  there  must  be  no  more 
castles  in  the  air. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  he  continued  presently. 
"  I  shall  be  in  town  on  Wednesday.  I  '11  go  and 
look  Lance  up  then." 

"  But,  Hughie,"  cried  Joan  in  dismay, "  Wednes- 
day is  the  day  of  the  entertainment.  You  must 
come  to  that.  What  is  your  engagement,  if  it 's 
not  indiscreet  to  inquire?" 

"Dentist,"  said  Hughie  lugubriously. 

"Dentist?"  Joan  laughed,  or  rather  crowed, 
in  her  characteristically  childlike  way.  "  Hughie 
at  the  dentist's!  It  seems  so  funny,"  she  ex- 
plained apologetically. 

"It  will  be  the  reverse  of  funny,"  said  Hughie 
severely,  "when  he  gets  hold  of  me.  Do  you 
know  how  long  it  is  since  I  sat  in  a  dentist's 
chair?  Eight  years,  no  less!" 

"You'll  catch  it!"  said  Miss  Gaymer  confi- 
dently. "But  you  simply  must  not  go  on  that  day. 
I  want  you  at  the  show.  Can't  you  change  the 
date?" 

"The  assassin  gave  me  to  understand,"  said 
Hughie,  "  that  it  was  a  most  extraordinary  piece 
of  luck  for  me  that  he  should  be  able  to  take  me 
at  all;  and  he  rather  suggested  that  if  I  broke 
the  appointment  I  need  not  expect  another  on 
this  side  of  the  grave.  Besides,  next  Wednesday 
is  about  our  one  off-day  from  shooting.  I  also  — " 


304          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

Miss  Gaymer  fixed  a  cold  and  accusing  eye 
on  him. 

"  Confess,  miserable  shuffler ! "  she  said.  "  You 
arranged  that  date  with  the  dentist  on  purpose, 
so  as  to  escape  the  theatricals." 

"Guilty,  my  lord!"  replied  the  criminal  re- 
signedly. 

"Well,  you  are  let  off  with  a  caution,"  said 
Joan  graciously,  "  but  you  '11  have  to  come,  all 
the  same.  You  will,  won't  you,  Hughie?" 

"  Will  my  presence  make  so  much  difference  ?" 
said  Hughie,  rather  boldly  for  him.  He  was  in- 
viting a  heavy  snub,  and  he  knew  it. 

Joan  raised  her  eyes  to  his  for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  rather  unexpectedly,  "  it  will." 

"Then  I  '11  come,"  said  Hughie,  with  vigour. 
"I  go  to  the  dentist  at  ten.  I  '11  get  that  over, 
ask  Lance  to  lunch,  and  come  down  by  the  after- 
noon train.  What  time  does  the  show  begin  ?" 

"Eight." 

"The  train  gets  in  at  seven-fifty.  I'll  come 
straight  to  the  Parish  Hall  — " 

"You  '11  get  no  dinner,"  said  Joan  in  warning 
tones. 

"Never  mind!"  said  Hughie  heroically. 
"There's  to  be  a  supper  afterwards,  is  n't  there  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  '11  last  out,  then.  By  the  way,  does  it  matter 
if  I  'm  not  in  evening  kit  ?" 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    305 

"Not  a  bit,  if  you  don't  mind  yourself.  Of 
course  the  front  rows  will  be  full  of  people  with 
their  glad  rags  on,"  said  Joan.  "But  if  you  feel 
shy,  come  round  behind  the  scenes.  Then  you  '11 
be  able  to  keep  an  eye  on  me  —  and  Mr.  Hali- 
burton!"  she  added,  with  a  provocative  little 
glance. 

Hughie  duly  departed  to  town,  promising  faith- 
fully to  come  back  for  the  theatricals,  and  won- 
dering vaguely  why  Joan  had  insisted  so  strongly 
on  his  doing  so.  Joan  felt  rather  inclined  to 
wonder  herself.  She  was  a  little  perplexed  by  her 
own  impulses  at  present.  But  her  mind  was  oc- 
cupied by  some  dim  instinct  of  self-preservation, 
and  she  felt  somehow  distinctly  happier  when 
Hughie  promised  to  come. 

However,  there  was  little  time  for  introspec- 
tion. Rehearsals  —  "  with  the  accent  on  the 
hearse,"  as  Mr.  Binks  remarked  during  one  pro- 
tracted specimen  —  were  dragging  their  slow 
length  along  to  a  conclusion ;  tickets  were  selling 
like  hot  cakes ;  and  presently  the  great  day  came. 

Amateur  theatricals  are  a  weariness  to  the 
flesh,  but  viewed  in  the  right  spirit  they  are  by 
no  means  destitute  of  entertainment.  The 
drama's  laws,  as  interpreted  by  the  amateur, 
differ  materially  from  those  observed  by  the  pro- 
fessional branch  —  the  members  of  which,  it 


306         THE   UNJUST  STEWARD 

must  be  remembered,  have  to  please  to  live  — 
in  several  important  particulars;  and  with  these 
the    intending   playgoer  should   at   once   make 
himself  conversant. 
Here  is  a  precis:  — 

(1)  Remember  that  the  performance  has  been 
got  up  entirely  for  the  benefit  of  the  performers, 
and  that  you  and  the  rest  of  the  audience  have 
merely  been  brought  in  to  make  the  thing  worth 
while. 

(2)  Abandon  all  hope  of  punctuality  at   the 
start  or  reasonability  in  the  length  of  the  inter- 
vals.   Amateur  scene-shifters  and  musicians  do 
not  relish  having  their   "turns"   curtailed   any 
more  than  the  more  conspicuous  members  of  the 
cast. 

(3)  Bear  in  mind  the  fact  that  the  play  is  not 
the  thing,  but  the  players.   The  most  thrilling 
Third  Act  is  as  dross  compared  with  the  excite- 
ment and  suspense  of  watching  to  see  whether 
Johnny  Blank  will  really  kiss  Connie  Dash  in  the 
proposal  scene,  or  whether  the  fact  (known  to  at 
least  two- thirds  of  the  audience)  that  they  have 
not  been   on   speaking  terms  for  the   past  six 
months  will  result  in  the  usual  amateur  ne  plus 
ultra  —  a  sort  of  frustrated  peck,  falling  short  by 
about  six  inches.   Again,  the  joy  of  hearing  the 
hero  falter  in  a  stirring  apostrophe  to  the  gallery 
is  enhanced  by  the  knowledge  that  he  is  reading 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    307 

it  from  inside  the  crown  of  his  hat,  and  has  lost 
the  place :  while  the  realistic  and  convincing  air 
of  deference  with  which  the  butler  addresses  the 
duchess  is  the  more  readily  recognized  and  appre- 
ciated by  an  audience  who  are  well  aware  that  he 
happens  in  private  life  to  be  that  lady's  husband. 

The  entertainment  to  which  we  must  now 
draw  the  reader's  unwilling  attention  was  to  con- 
sist of  three  parts.  First,  the  Tableaux  Vivants 
—  thirty  seconds  of  tableaux  to  about  ten  min- 
utes of  outer  darkness  and  orchestral  selection; 
then  a  comedietta;  and  finally,  Mrs.  Jarley's 
Waxworks. 

The  largest  room  behind  the  scenes  had  been 
reserved  for  the  lady  artistes;  a  draughty  passage, 
furnished  chiefly  with  flaring  candles  and  soda- 
water  syphons,  being  apportioned  to  the  gentle- 
men. The  loge  des  dames  was  a  bare  and  cheer- 
less apartment,  but  tables  and  mirrors  had  been 
placed  round  the  walls ;  and  here  some  fifteen  or 
twenty  maidens  manoeuvred  with  freezing  polite- 
ness or  unrestrained  elbowings  (according  to 
their  shade  of  social  standing)  for  positions 
favourable  to  self-contemplation. 

Joan  and  Sylvia  Tarrant  foregathered  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor. 

"I  think  we'd  better  dress  here,  dear,"  said 
Joan  cheerfully,  "and  leave  the  nobility  and  gen- 
try to  fight  for  the  dressing-tables.  After  all," 


308         THE   UNJUST  STEWARD 

she  added  complacently,  "you  and  I  need  the 
least  doing  up  of  any  of  them." 

The  tableaux  on  the  whole  were  a  success, 
though  it  was  some  time  before  the  audience  were 
permitted  to  inspect  them.  The  musical  director, 
a  nervous  individual  with  a  penchant  for  applied 
science,  had  spent  the  greatest  part  of  two  days  in 
fixing  up  an  electric  bell  of  heroic  proportions 
controlled  from  the  conductor's  desk,  and  ring- 
ing into  the  ear  of  the  gentleman  in  charge  of  the 
lighting  arrangements.  A  carefully  type-written 
document  (another  by-product  of  the  musician's 
versatility)  apprised  this  overwrought  official  that 
one  ring  signified  "stage-lights  up,"  and  two 
rings  "  stage- lights  down." 

Just  before  the  curtain  rose  for  the  first  tableau 
the  conductor  pressed  his  button  once.  After  an 
interval  of  about  two  seconds,  since  the  stage- 
lights  showed  no  inclination  to  go  up, —  as  a 
matter  of  fact  the  controller  of  illuminants  was 
tenderly  nursing  a  hopelessly  perforated  ear- 
drum, —  the  agitated  musician,  convinced  that 
the  bell  had  not  rung,  rang  it  again.  Conse- 
quently, just  as  the  curtain  rose,  every  single 
lamp  on  the  stage,  from  the  footlights  to  the  over- 
head battens,  was  hastily  extinguished.  Con- 
fusion reigned  supreme.  The  conductor  pressed 
his  button  frantically  and  continuously ;  the  elec- 
trician lost  his  head  completely,  and  began  to 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    309 

turn  off  switches  which  controlled  the  lights  in 
the  dressing-rooms  and  the  hall  itself;  while  the 
faithful  orchestra,  suddenly  bereft  of  both  light 
and  leadership,  endeavoured  with  heroic  but 
misguided  enthusiasm  to  keep  the  flag  flying  by 
strident  improvisations  of  the  most  varied  and 
individual  character. 

The  audience,  who  had  come  prepared  for 
anything,  sat  unmoved ;  but  dolorous  cries  were 
heard  from  the  dressing-rooms  and  vestibule. 
Above  all  rose  the  voice  of  the  conductor,  calling 
aloud  for  the  blood  of  the  electrician  and  refusing 
to  be  comforted.  The  first  tableau  vivant  partook 
of  the  nature  of  an  "  extra  turn,"  and  was  not  fore- 
shadowed in  the  programme.  It  took  place  in  the 
middle  of  the  stage,  and  depicted  two  overheated 
gentlemen  (one  carrying  a  baton  and  the  other 
en  deshabille)  explaining  (fortissimo}  the  pur- 
port of  a  type-written  document  to  a  third  (who 
caressed  his  right  ear  all  the  time)  by  the  light  of 
a  single  wax  vesta. 

After  this  gratuitous  contribution  to  the  gaiety 
of  the  proceedings  the  official  programme  came 
into  force,  and  various  attractive  and  romantic 
visions  were  unfolded  to  the  audience.  Certainly 
the  tableaux  were  well  mounted.  The  success  of 
A  Gambler's  Wife  and  Two  Strings  to  her  Bow 
was  beyond  question.  Haliburton,  too,  made  a 
striking  appearance  in  Orchardson's  Hard  Hit  — 


310          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

the  famous  gambling  picture  with  the  countless 
packs  of  cards  strewn  upon  the  floor  —  wherein 
the  broken  gamester  turns  with  his  hand  on  the 
door-handle  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  three  men 
who  have  mastered  him. 

There  were  minor  blemishes,  of  course.  The 
composure  of  the  beauteous  band  who  were  dis- 
covered—  when  the  conductor  had  been  hounded 
back  to  his  stool  and  the  bemused  electrician  re- 
placed by  a  man  of  more  enduring  fibre  —  con- 
templating their  own  charms  in  The  Mirror  of 
Venus  was  utterly  wrecked  —  yea,  transformed 
into  helpless  giggles  —  by  a  totally  unexpected 
ejaculation  of  "Good  old  Gertie!"  proceeding 
from  a  young  man  in  the  front  row  —  evidently 
a  brother  —  chiefly  remarkable  for  a  made-up 
tie  and  a  red  silk  handkerchief,  and  directed  ap- 
parently (if  one  may  judge  by  consequences)  at  a 
massively- built  young  woman  kneeling  third  from 
the  end  on  the  prompt  side.  During  another  tab- 
leau, as  Prince  Charles  stood  rigid  in  the  embrace 
of  Flora  Macdonald,  the  audience  sat  spellbound 
for  thirty  breathless  seconds,  what  time  the  un- 
happy prince's  tartan  stockings  slipped  inch  by 
inch  from  the  neighbourhood  of  his  knees,  past 
the  boundary  line  where  artificial  brown  left  off 
and  natural  white  began,  right  down  to  his  ankles 
— a  contretemps  which,  as  Mr.  D'Arcy  remarked 
to  Mrs.  Leroy,  added  a  touch  of  animation  to 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    311 

what  would  otherwise  have  been  a  somewhat 
lifeless  representation. 

The  comedietta  was  not  an  unqualified  success. 
It  was  one  of  those  characteristic  products  of  what 
may  be  called  the  Back-Drawing-Room  School, 
in  which  complications  begin  shortly  after  the 
rise  of  the  curtain  with  the  delivery  and  perusal 
of  a  certain  letter,  and  are  automatically  ad- 
justed at  the  end  of  about  thirty-five  minutes  by 
the  introduction  of  another,  which  explains  every- 
thing, settles  differences,  precipitates  engage- 
ments, and  brings  the  curtain  down  upon  all  the 
characters  standing  in  a  row  in  carefully  assorted 
couples. 

This  somewhat  trite  and  conventional  plot  was 
agreeably  varied  by  the  vagaries  of  the  talented 
gentleman  who  played  the  footman  responsible 
for  the  delivery  of  the  letters.  He  brought  on  the 
second  letter  first,  with  the  result  that  the  heroine 
found  herself  exclaiming:  "How  foolish  I  have 
been !  Gerald  had  been  true  to  me  through  all ! 
I  must  go  to  him  at  once!  We  can  be  married 
to-morrow!"  after  the  drama  had  been  in  pro- 
gress some  three  minutes,  —  a  catastrophe  only 
tided  over  by  some  perfectly  Napoleonic  "gag- 
ging" by  the  comic  man  and  an  entirely  unre- 
hearsed entrance  (with  obvious  assistance  from 
the  rear)  of  the  footman,  with  the  right  letter. 

Fortunately  these  divergences  from  the  drama's 


312          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

normal  course  were  lost  upon  the  majority  of  the 
audience ;  for  the  actors,  whether  from  nervous- 
ness or  frank  boredom,  were  inaudible  beyond 
the  first  three  rows  of  seats.  Even  here  the  feat 
of  following  the  drift  of  the  dialogue  was  ren- 
dered almost  impossible  by  the  persistent  and 
frantic  applause  of  two  obvious  "deadheads" 
in  the  front  row,  —  poor  relations  of  the  gentle- 
man who  played  the  footman,  —  who,  since  they 
occupied  free  seats,  evidently  considered  it  their 
bounden  duty  to  applaud  every  entrance  and  exit 
of  their  munificent  relative,  even  when  he  came 
on  with  the  wrong  letter  or  was  elbowed  off  to 
fetch  the  right  one.  The  only  member  of  the 
company  who  performed  his  duties  with  any- 
thing like  thoroughness  was  the  prompter,  a  re- 
tired major  with  lungs  of  brass.  He  had  evidently 
decided,  with  the  true  instinct  of  a  strong  man, 
that  if  you  want  a  thing  well  done  you  must  do 
it  yourself.  Consequently  his  voice  re-echoed 
through  the  hall  in  an  unceasing  monologue  which, 
while  it  lacked  the  variety  inseparable  from  the 
deliverances  of  a  whole  company,  did  much  to  keep 
the  occupants  of  the  back  benches  au  fait  with 
the  intricacies  of  the  plot.  The  best  laugh  of  the 
evening,  however,  was  aroused  by  the  temerity 
of  one  of  the  actors,  who  suddenly  interrupted 
the  prompter  to  remark  mildly  but  distinctly: 
"All  right,  old  man,  I  know  this  bit!'* 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    313 

Then  came  Mrs.  Jarley's  Waxworks.  The 
curtain  rose  upon  the  usual  group  of  historical 
and  topical  characters,  seated  round  the  stage  in  a 
semicircle,  most  of  them  twitching  with  incipient 
hysteria,  and  all  resolutely  avoiding  the  eye  of  the 
audience.  Presently  Mrs.  Jarley  (B inks),  accom- 
panied by  Master  Jarley  (Cherub,  in  a  sailor  suit 
and  white  socks),  made  her  appearance,  and 
plunged  into  a  slightly  laboured  monologue, 
what  time  her  offspring  walked  round  the  stage, 
and,  by  dint  of  dusting,  oiling,  and  other  opera- 
tions, stimulated  any  of  the  figures  which  could 
possibly  have  been  mistaken  for  waxworks  into 
a  fitting  display  of  life  and  activity. 

One  "Mrs.  Jarley"  is  very  like  another,  and 
the  audience,  who  were  beginning  to  suffer  from 
a  slight  attack  of  theatrical  indigestion,  were 
a  little  slow  in  responding  to  Binks's  hoary 
"wheezes"  and  unfathomable  topical  allusions. 
It  was  not  until  a  bench  at  the  back  of  the  stage, 
occupied  by  Oliver  Cromwell,  General  Booth, 
Dorando,  and  a  Suffragette,  suddenly  toppled 
over  backwards,  and  discharged  its  tenants,  with 
four  alarming  thuds,  into  the  chasm  which 
yawned  between  the  back  of  the  staging  and  the 
wall,  that  the  entertainment  could  be  said  to  have 
received  a  proper  fillip.  After  the  first  sensation 
of  surprise  and  resentment  at  finding  themselves 
reposing  upon  the  backs  of  their  necks  in  the 


314         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

dust,  the  four  gentlemen  affected  (who,  it  is  to 
be  feared,  had  been  priming  themselves  for  this, 
their  first  appearance  on  any  stage,  in  the  cus- 
tomary manner)  accepted  the  situation  with  heroic 
resignation.  Remembering  that  they  were  wax- 
works, and  for  that  if  for  no  other  reason  incap- 
able of  getting  up,  they  continued  in  their  present 
posture,  invisible  to  the  naked  eye  except  for 
their  legs,  which  stuck  straight  up  into  the  air. 
The  flagging  audience,  imagining  that  the  entire 
disaster  was  part  of  the  performance,  applauded 
uproariously,  and  Mrs.  Jarley  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity to  deliver  a  pithy  extempore  lecture  upon 
character  as  read  from  the  soles  of  the  feet. 

The  performance  concluded  with  a  song  and 
chorus,  specially  composed  for  the  occasion,  and 
sung  by  Mrs.  Jarley  and  her  exhibits  in  spas- 
modic antistrophe.  Mrs.  Jarley  began,  — 

"Some  ladies  have  one  figure  —  one,  home  grown! 

But  I  have  quite  a  lot,  like  Madam  Tussaud. 
And  whatever  sort  of  one  you'd  like  to  own, 
Just  order  me  to  make  it,  and  I'll  do  so. 
I  can  make  you  waxen  figures  that  can  walk, 

Or  wave  their  arms,  or  turn  and  look  behind  'em  — " 

Here,  in  attempting  to  suit  the  action  to  the  word, 
the  singer  tripped  heavily  over  her  own  train,  and 
was  only  saved  from  complete  bouleversement  by 
the  miraculously  animated  and  suddenly  out- 
stretched arm  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  who  was  sit- 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    315 

sing  close  behind.   Binks  continued,  quite  un- 
disturbed, — 

"And  some  of  them  (the  female  ones!)  can  talk, 
And  it's  wonderful  how  useful  people  find  them. 

"  So  send  for  Mrs.  Jarley  on  the  spot! 
And  she'll  reproduce  each  feature  that  you've  got. 

It  will  save  a  deal  of  trouble 

If  you  have  a  waxen  double, 
Which  will  do  your  work  when  you  would  rather  not! " 

"Now  then,  waxworks!  All  together!  Give 
them  a  lead,  Sousa!" 

Mr.  Sousa  (second  from  the  end,  o.  p.  side) 
obediently  began  to  agitate  his  baton,  partially 
scalping  Sunny  Jim  in  the  process,  and  the  wax- 
works sang  out,  fortissimo,  with  a  distinct  but 
unevenly  distributed  accelerando  toward  the 
end,  - 

"Then  send  for  Mrs.  Jarley  on  the  spot! 

And  she'll  reproduce  each  feature  that  you've  got. 
All  your  business  she  will  see  to, 
Black  your  boots,  and  make  your  tea,  too, 

If  you'll  only  put  a  penny  in  the  slot!" 

The  tune  was  good,  and  the  chorus  went  with  a 
swing.  But  now  a  difficulty  arose.  The  second 
verse  should  have  been  sung  by  one  of  the  late 
occupants  of  the  back  bench  —  Dorando,  to  be 
precise;  and  Mrs.  Jarley,  realizing  the  circum- 
stance, was  on  the  point  of  beginning  it  herself, 


316          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

when  a  muffled  voice,  proceeding  apparently  from 
the  infernal  regions,  struck  into  the  opening  lines. 
Dorando,  faint  yet  pursuing,  was  evidently  deter- 
mined to  fulfil  his  contract,  even  if  he  had  to  do 
it  on  his  head.  For  various  reasons  (chiefly  dust 
and  incipient  apoplexy),  his  articulation  was  not 
all  that  could  be  desired,  and  the  verse,  which  told 
of  the  ingenious  device  of  one  Tommy  Sparkes, 
who,  faced  by  the  prospect  of  corporal  punish- 
ment, 

"Sent  for  Mrs.  Jarley  on  the  spot, 
And  explained  that  he  was  going  to  get  it  hot"  — 

whereupon  that  resourceful  lady 

"Made  a  figure,  small  and  ruddy, 

To  be  Tommy's  understudy; 
And  the  figure  got  —  what  Tommy  should  have  got!" 

was  lost  upon  the  audience.  But  every  one 
took  up  the  chorus  with  a  will,  and  the  third 
verse  entered  upon  its  career  under  the  happiest 
auspices. 

On  this  occasion  the  lines  were  distributed 
among  the  figures  themselves. 

"  Now  Mrs.  Bumble-Doodle  gave  a  ball "  — 

began  Queen  Elizabeth; 

"But  twenty-seven  men  all  wired  to  say"  — 

continued  Peter  Pan ; 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG    317 

"That  they  very  much  regretted,  after  all"  — 

carolled  Sunny  Jim; 

"To  find  they  simply  could  n't  get  away!"  — 
bellowed  a  voice  (Oliver  Cromwell's)  from  under 
the  platform. 

"Said  Mrs.  Bumble-Doodle,  in  despair"  — 

resumed  Master  Jarley,  after  a  yell  of  laughter 
had  subsided; 

"The  ball  will  be  a  failure  —  not  a  doubt  of  it!" 
announced  a  Pierrette,  with  finality. 

"The  girls  won't  find  a  single  partner  there"  — 

wailed  a  waxwork  in  a  kilt  (possibly  Rob  Roy  or 
Harry  Lauder)  — 

There  was  a  break.  The  piano  paused  expect- 
antly, and  all  the  waxworks  turned  their  heads 
(most  unprofessionally)  to  see  what  had  happened 
to  Cherry  Ripe,  whose  turn  it  was  to  sing  the  next 
verse.  Apparently  that  lady  had  permitted  her 
attention  to  wander,  for  she  was  scrutinising  the 
audience,  to  the  neglect  of  her  cue.  The  sudden 
silence  — or  possibly  the  attentions  of  Master 
Jarley,  who  bustled  up  and  assiduously  oiled  her 
mouth  and  ears  —  seemed  to  recall  her  errant 
wits. 

"Sorry!"  she  remarked  calmly,  and  sang  in  a 
clear  voice,  — 

"Oh,  what  a  mess!   How  are  we  to  get  out  of  it?" 


318         THE   UNJUST  STEWARD 

"She  sent  for  Mrs.  Jarley  on  the  spot!" 

declaimed  that  lady  triumphantly, 

—  "And  the  girls  were  quite  content  with  what  they  got. 
True,  a  dummy  cannot  flirt; 
But  he  does  not  tear  your  skirt, 
Or  say  that  he  can  dance  when  he  can  not!" 

"Now,  then,  all  together!" 

Mrs.  Jarley,  waxworks,  and  audience  swung 
into  the  final  chorus.  Even  the  four  inverted 
Casabiancas  at  the  back  assisted  by  swinging 
their  legs. 

"She  sent  for  Mrs.  Jarley  on  the  spot! 
And  the  girls  were  quite  content  with  what  they  got. 
They  were  spared  that  youth  entrancing, 
Who  says:  'I  don't  much  care  for  dancing, 
But  I  don't  mind  sitting  out  with  you  —  eh,  what  ? ' " 

But  Cherry  Ripe  was  not  singing.  She  was  say- 
ing to  herself,  — 

"  Not  in  the  hall,  and  not  behind  the  scenes !  I 
wonder  where  he  can  have  got  to !  He  may  have 
missed  his  train,  of  course;  but  then  he  could 
have  wired,  hours  ago.  Well,  Hughie,  mon  ami, 
if  that's  the  way  you  treat  invitations  — 

But  the  curtain  had  fallen,  and  all  the  wax- 
works were  scuffling  off  their  high  chairs  and 
trooping  to  the  dressing-rooms.  Cherry  Ripe, 
following  their  example,  put  an  arm  round  Pier- 
rette, and  said :  — 


CHARITY  SUFFERETH  LONG     319 

"Come  along,  Sylvia!  Home,  supper,  and  a 
dance!  yhat's  the  programme  now." 

On  reaching  Manors,  Joan  enquired  of  Mr. 
Goble,  - 

"Is  Mr.  Hughie  back,  John  ?" 

"'Deed,  no,  mem." 

"Any  telegram,  or  anything?"  asked  Joan 
carelessly. 

"Naething  whatever!  He'll  no  be  back  till  the 
morn,  I  doot,"  said  Mr.  Goble. 

Two  hours  later,  when  supper  was  over  and 
the  dancing  at  its  height,  Mr.  Haliburton  ap- 
proached Joan. 

"Our  dance,  I  think,  Cherry  Ripe?"  he  said. 

Cherry  Ripe  concurred. 

"Will  you  come  and  sit  in  the  conservatory?" 
continued  Haliburton.  "  I  want  to  say  something 
particular  to  you." 

Joan  regarded  him  covertly  for  a  moment. 

"All  right!"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN  WHICH  CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME,  AND 
HUGHIE  MISSES  HIS  TRAIN 

THE  dentist  laid  aside  his  excavating  pick  with 
a  regretful  sigh,  and  began  to  fit  what  looked  like 
a  miniature  circular  saw  into  the  end  of  the  elec- 
tric drill. 

Hughie,  recumbent  in  the  chair,  telling  himself 
resolutely  that,  appearances  to  the  contrary,  the 
man  was  doing  this  because  it  was  really  neces- 
sary, and  not  from  mere  voluptuousness,  cau- 
tiously inserted  his  tongue  into  the  hole,  and  cal- 
culated that  the  final  clearance  would  be  a  three 
minutes'  job  at  the  shortest. 

"It  seems  hard  to  believe,"  said  the  dentist 
morosely,  setting  the  machinery  of  the  drill  in  mo- 
tion with  his  foot,  "  that  your  teeth  have  not  been 
attended  to  for  eight  years.  A  little  wider,  please ! " 

Hughie  realised  that  he  was  being  called  a  liar 
as  unmistakably  as  a  man  can  be ;  but  at  this  mo- 
ment the  drill  came  into  full  operation,  and  he 
merely  gripped  the  arms  of  the  chair. 

"A  man,"  continued  the  dentist,  removing  the 
drill  and  suddenly  syringing  the  cavity  with  ice- 
cold  water,  —  "empty,  please!  —  should  make 


CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME     321 

a  point  of  having  his  teeth  inspected  once  every 
six  months;  a  woman,  once  every  three." 

"A  man,"  replied  Hughie  (who  believed  that 
the  operations  with  the  drill  were  completed), 
"  must  have  his  teeth  inspected  when  he  can.  That 
is,"  he  added  rapidly,  —  the  dentist  was  deliber- 
ately fitting  a  fresh  tool  into  the  drill,  —  "I  have 
been  abroad  for  the  last  eight  or  nine  years." 

"Away  from  civilisation,  perhaps,"  said  the 
dentist  compassionately,  getting  good  leverage 
for  his  operating  hand  by  using  Hughie's  lower 
jaw  as  a  fulcrum. 

"Quite!"  gurgled  Hughie,  whose  head  at  the 
moment  was  clasped  tight  to  his  inquisitor's  waist- 
coat buttons. 

"In  that  case,"  said  the  dentist  in  distinctly 
mollified  tones,  "  we  must  not  be  too  hard  on  you. 
Tongue  down,  please!" 

He  completed  his  excavating  and  inundating 
operations,  and,  regretfully  pushing  away  the 
arm  of  the  drilling-machine,  began  to  line  his  vic- 
tim's mouth  with  some  material  which  tasted 
like  decomposing  sponge-bags. 

"  Your  teeth  have  preserved  their  soundness  in 
quite  an  unaccountable  way,"  he  continued, 
with  the  air  of  a  just  man  conscientiously  endeav- 
ouring to  minimise  a  grievance.  "There  is  one 
other  small  hole  here,"  —  he  ran  a  pointed  instru- 
ment well  into  it  to  prove  his  statement,  —  "  but 


322         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

beyond  that  there  is  nothing  further  to  find  fault 
with." 

He  began  to  pound  up  a  mysterious  mixture  in 
a  small  mortar,  and  ran  on :  — 

"You  must  have  been  very  careful  in  your 
diet." 

"No  sweets,"  said  Hughie  laconically.  "And 
I  used  very  often  to  eat  my  meat  right  off  the  bone. 
That  keeps  teeth  white,  does  n't  it?" 

The  dentist  put  down  the  mortar  with  some 
deliberation,  and  glared.  Anything  in  the  shape 
of  levity  emanating  from  occupants  of  the  rack 
jars  upon  a  Chief  Tormentor's  sense  of  what  is 
professionally  proper.  But  Hughie  was  lying  back 
in  the  chair  with  his  mouth  open  and  eyes  shut, 
exhibiting  no  sign  of  humorous  intention.  Still, 
this  must  not  occur  again.  The  dentist  looked 
round  for  a  gag.  He  produced  from  somewhere 
a  long  snaky  india-rubber  arrangement,  termin- 
ating in  a  hooked  nozzle.  This  he  hung  over 
Hughie's  lower  cpxos  oSoj/rwi/,  effectually  stifling 
his  utterance  and  reducing  his  share  in  the  con- 
versation to  a  sort  of  Morse  Code  of  single 
gurgles  and  long-drawn  sizzles  suggestive  of  the 
emptying  of  a  bath. 

Then,  taking  up  his  mortar,  he  proceeded,  with 
the  air  of  one  who  is  using  a  giant's  strength  mag- 
nanimously, — 

"You  have  visited  the  Antipodes,  perhaps?" 


CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME     323 

"  Gug-gug-guggle ! "  proceeded  from  the  in- 
dia-rubber-lined orifice  before  him. 

"Ah!  that  must  have^  been  very  interesting," 
continued  the  dentist.  "Had  you  many  oppor- 
tunities of  discussing  the  question  of  Colonial  Pre- 
ference with  the  leading  men  out  there  ?" 

"Glug!"  came  the  reply. 

"  That  was  unfortunate.  But  perhaps  you  were 
able  to  form  some  idea  of  the  general  Australian 
attitude  towards  the  question  ?" 

"G-r-r-r-r-r!  Guggle,  guggle!  Ch'k,  ch'k!" 
observed  Hughie. 

"Personally,"  continued  the  dentist,  rolling  the 
pulverised  substance  in  the  mortar  between  his 
finger  and  thumb,  and  lighting  a  spirit-lamp,  "I 
am  an  ardent  upholder  of  the  principles  of  that 
truly  great  man,  the  immortal  Richard  Cobden. 
Are  you?" 

Hughie,  thoughtlessly  lifting  the  gag  for  a  mo- 
ment, replied  —  with  fatal  distinctness. 

It  was  a  mad  act.  The  dentist  simply  took  up 
a  humorous-looking  bulb-shaped  appliance,  and 
having  filled  it  with  red-hot  air  at  the  spirit-lamp, 
discharged  its  contents,  in  one  torrid  blast,  into 
the  excavated  tooth. 

Twenty  minutes  later  Hughie  was  ushered  into 
the  street,  and  stood  poising  himself  doubtfully 
on  the  doorstep.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do. 


324          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

Strictly  speaking,  his  next  engagement  should 
have  been  to  entertain  Mr.  Lance  Gaymer  at 
luncheon.  But  that  exposer  of  fraudulent  trustees 
had  not  replied  to  Hughie's  written  invitation. 
Hence  Hughie's  stork-like  attitude  outside  the 
dentist's  premises.  Personally  he  had  not  the 
slightest  desire  to  entertain  Lance  Gaymer  at 
luncheon  or  any  other  meal.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  had  promised  Joan  to  seek  out  her  brother  and 
ascertain  if  all  was  well  with  him.  Ergo,  since 
the  Mountain  declined  to  come  to  Mohammed,  or 
even  answer  his  letters,  Mohammed  must  put  his 
pride  in  his  pocket  and  go  to  the  Mountain. 

The  prophet  accordingly  hailed  a  hansom,  and 
was  directing  the  cabman  to  drive  to  the  Moun- 
tain's residence  in  Maida  Vale,  —  a  paradoxical 
address  for  a  Mountain,  by  the  way,  —  when  a 
strange  thing  happened.  Nay,  it  was  a  provi- 
dential thing;  for  if  Hughie  had  not  resolutely 
summoned  up  his  courage  and  told  the  dentist  to 
go  in  and  finish  off  the  small  hole  in  the  last 
tooth,  —  a  treat  which  that  sated  epicure  was  in- 
clined to  postpone  until  another  occasion,  —  he 
would  have  hailed  this  hansom  twenty  minutes 
sooner  and  so  missed  his  just  reward. 

Mrs.  Lance  Gaymer  suddenly  came  round  a 
corner  of  the  quiet  square,  and  crossed  the  road 
directly  in  front  of  Hughie's  hansom.  Hughie 
dismounted,  and  greeted  her. 


CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME     325 

"Why,"  cried  Mrs.  Lance,  "I  do  declare,  it's 
Mr.  Marrable!" 

She  smiled  upon  Hughie  in  a  manner  so  in- 
toxicating that  the  cabman  coughed  discreetly 
to  the  horse.  That  intelligent  animal  made  no 
comment,  but  turned  round  and  looked  at  the 
cabman. 

"Fancy  meeting  you!"  she  continued  archly. 

"  Did  your  husband  get  a  letter  from  me  yes- 
terday, Mrs.  Gaymer,  do  you  know?"  asked 
Hughie. 

No,  Mrs.  Gaymer  was  sure  he  had  not.  The 
poor  boy  had  took  to  his  bed  a  week  ago,  with 
the  "flu";  so  Mrs.  Lance  had  been  conducting 
his  correspondence  for  him,  and  could  therefore 
vouch  for  the  non-arrival  of  Hughie's  letter. 
She  hazarded  the  suggestion  that  possibly  Hughie 
had  written  to  Maida  Vale. 

Yes.  Hughie  had. 

"That's  it,  then!"  said  Mrs.  Lance.  "We 
moved  from  there  six  weeks  ago.  We  live  in  Bal- 
ham  now." 

Hughie  was  not  sufficiently  conversant  with 
suburban  caste  distinctions  to  feel  sure  whether 
this  was  a  step  up  or  down  in  the  social  scale, 
so  he  merely  expressed  a  hope  that  Lance  was 
getting  well  again. 

"I  want  to  come  and  see  him,  if  I  may,"  he 
said.  "I  asked  him  to  come  and  lunch  with  me, 


326          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

but  I  suppose  that  is  out  of  the  question  at  'pre- 
sent." 

"You're  right  there,"  said  Mrs.  Lance  in  dis- 
tinctly guarded  tones.  "He  ain't  what  you'd 
call  spry.  He's  not  seeing  anybody." 

"I  should  n't  stay  long,"  urged  Hughie. 

"Is  it  business?"  enquired  Mrs.  Gaymerwith 
a  touch  of  hostility. 

"Yes,"  said  Hughie. 

Mrs.  Gaymer  surveyed  him  curiously.  To 
most  people  she  would  have  said  flatly  and  un- 
truthfully that  her  husband  was  unfit  to  see  any 
one,  for  she  had  her  own  reasons  for  discouraging 
visitors  to  Balham  just  now.  But  she  had  al- 
ways cherished  a  weakness  for  Hugh  Marrable. 
He  treated  her  exactly  as  he  treated  all  women 
—  with  a  scrupulous  courtesy  which,  while  it 
slightly  bored  frivolous  damsels  of  his  acquaint- 
ance, was  appreciated  at  its  true  value  by  a  lady 
whose  social  status  was  more  than  a  little  equivo- 
cal. It  is  only  when  one  has  secret  doubts  about 
being  a  real  lady  that  one  appreciates  being 
treated  as  such. 

"Could  you  come  to-morrow?"  she  said  at 
last. 

"I  have  to  get  back  to  Manors  to-night,"  said 
Hughie.  "Might  I  come  out  to  Balham  this 
afternoon  ?  Or,  better  still,  will  you  come  and 
lunch  with  me  somewhere  now,  and  we  can 


CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME     327 

drive  out  there  afterwards?  Or  must  you  get 
back  to  the  invalid?"  he  added,  with  just  a 
suspicion  of  hopefulness. 

Mrs.  Lance,  however,  expressed  her  willingness 
to  come  and  lunch,  but  insisted  on  being  allowed 
to  precede  Hughie  to  Balham  by  at  least  one  hour. 
The  house  was  that  untidy !  she  explained. 

Accordingly  Hughie,  having  decided  in  his 
mind  upon  an  establishment  where  he  would  not 
be  likely  to  encounter  any  of  his  own  friends,  and 
which  would  yet  conform  with  Mrs.  Gaymer's 
notions  of  what  was  sufficiently  "classy,"  con- 
veyed his  fair  charge  thither  in  a  hansom;  and 
presently  found  himself  engaged  in  that  tradi- 
tional ne  plus  ultra  of  dissipation  —  the  enter- 
tainment of  another  man's  wife  to  a  meal  in  a 
public  restaurant. 

Mrs.  Lance,  after  she  desisted  from  her  efforts 
to  impress  upon  her  host  the  fact  that  she  was 
quite  accustomed  to  this  sort  of  thing,  was  amus- 
ing enough.  She  addressed  the  waiter  —  an  in- 
articulate Teuton  —  as  "  Johnny,"  and  made  a 
point  of  saying  a  few  words  to  the  manager  when 
he  passed  their  table.  She  smoked  a  cigarette 
after  lunch,  and  was  good  enough  to  commend 
Hughie's  taste  in  champagne  —  a  brand  which 
he  had  hazily  recognised  in  the  wine-list  as  being 
the  sweetest  and  stickiest  beverage  ever  distilled 
from  gooseberries.  (It  was  the  sort  of  champagne 


328         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

which  goes  well  with  chocolate  creams :  "  Chorus 
Girls'  Entire,"  he  remembered  they  used  to  call 
it.)  At  any  rate  it  met  with  Mrs.  Lance's  undi- 
vided approval,  and  Hughie  realised  for  the  first 
time  that  a  University  education  can  after  all  be 
useful  to  one  in  after-life. 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Lance  enquired :  — 

"Do  you  know  any  theatrical  managers,  my 
dear  boy  ?" 

Yes,  Hughie  had  come  across  one  or  two. 
"Why?" 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Lance  expansively,  "you've 
always  treated  me  like  flesh  and  blood,  which  is 
more  than  what  some  of  your  relations  have 
done;  so  I'll  tell  you.  After  all,  I've  got  me 
feelings,  same  as  — " 

"What  about  the  theatrical  managers?"  in- 
quired Hughie  tactfully. 

"Oh,  yes.  Do  you  think  you  could  ask  one 
of  'em  to  give  me  a  shop  ?  The  chorus  would 
do.  I  was  in  it  before,"  said  Mrs.  Gaymer  can- 
didly. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  go  back  there ?" 

"I  —  I've  got  a  fancy  for  it  —  that's  all,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Gaymer  in  a  thoroughly  unconvincing 
tone. 

Hughie  wondered  if  Lance  and  his  wife  were 
beginning  to  tire  of  one  another. 

"I  do  know  one  or  two  men,"  he  said,  "who 


CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME     329 

are  interested  in  some  of  the  musical-comedy 
syndicates.  Shall  I  try  them  ?" 

"  Will  you  reelly  ?  You'll  be  a  duck  if  you  do," 
said  Mrs.  Gaymer. 

After  the  deliverance  of  this  unsolicited  testi- 
monial Hughie's  guest  observed  that  she  must 
be  getting  home,  and  Hughie,  having  put  her 
into  a  cab  and  paid  the  driver,  retired  to  his 
club,  clogged  with  viscous  champagne  and  feeling 
excessively  unwell,  to  wait  until  it  should  be  time 
for  him  to  follow  her. 

To  look  at  the  double  row  of  eligible  residences 
which  composed  Talbot  Street,  Balham,  you 
would  hardly  have  suspected  that  any  of  them 
would  support  what  the  Inland  Revenue  Schedule 
calls  a  "male  servant."  And  yet,  when  Hughie 
rang  the  bell  of  Number  Nineteen,  the  door  was 
opened  by  such  an  appanage  of  prosperity.  He 
was  an  elderly  gentleman  with  a  rheumy  but 
humorous  eye,  and  a  nose  which  suggested  the 
earlier  stages  of  elephantiasis.  He  wore  a  dress- 
coat  of  distinctly  fashionable  cut  (which,  need- 
less to  say,  did  not  fit  him)  and  the  regulation 
white  shirt  and  collar,  the  latter  quite  two  sizes 
too  small ;  but  his  boots  and  trousers  apparently 
belonged  to  a  totally  different  class  of  society. 

"Name  of  Marrable?"  he  enquired,  smiling 
benevolently  upon  Hughie. 

"Yes." 


330         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"Step  in.  We've  been  expectin'  of  you  for 
'alf-an-hour.  Don't  wipe  your  boots  on  that 
mat.  It's  worth  one-and-eight." 

After  this  somewhat  remarkable  confidence, 
the  Gaymers'  major-domo  conducted  the  visitor 
upstairs.  Here  he  threw  open  a  door  with  truly 
theatrical  grandeur,  and  announced,  — 

"  'Ere's  the  young  toff  for  you,  my  de  — " 

"Thank  you,  James:  that  will  do,"  interposed 
Mrs.  Lance  Gaymer,  with  a  very  fair  imitation 
of  the  manner  of  a  musical-comedy  duchess. 
"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Marrable?" 

She  was  attired  in  the  faded  glories  of  a  tea- 
gown,  of  a  material  more  pretentious  than  dur- 
able; and  in  the  half-light  of  the  drawing-room 
—  the  blinds  were  partially  lowered  —  looked 
extremely  handsome  in  a  tawdry  way. 

She  apologised  for  her  retainer's  familiarity. 
Mr.  Marrable  would  doubtless  know  what  old 
servants  was.  Still,  James  must  certainly  be 
spoke  to  about  it. 

"You'll  drink  a  cup  of  tea  with  me,"  she  con- 
tinued, "and  then  we'll  pop  up  and  see  Lance, 
pore  boy!  Ring  the  bell,  please." 

Hughie  did  so,  and  a  rather  laborious  quarter- 
of-an-hour  followed.  He  ploughed  his  way 
through  a  morass  of  unlikely  topics,  while  Mrs. 
Lance,  who  was  obviously  perturbed  at  the  non- 
appearance  of  tea,  replied  in  distrait  monosylla- 


CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME     331 

bles.  Hughie  was  conscious  about  half-way 
through  the  conversation  of  a  faint  crash  in  the 
lower  regions,  and  wondered  dimly  whether  ca- 
lamity had  overtaken  the  afternoon  meal.  If  so, 
he  had  no  doubt  as  to  which  of  the  domestic  staff 
of  Number  Nineteen  was  responsible. 

At  last  the  door  opened,  and  the  inestimable 
James  appeared. 

"  You  done  it  this  time !"  he  remarked  severely. 
"The  'andle  of  that  tea-pot  'as  came  right  away 
in  me  'and.  It  must  have  been  that  way  this  long 
while.  You  won't  get  no  tea  now.  Wot's  more, 
that  tea-pot  will  'ave  to  come  off  the  invent  — " 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Lance  Gaymer,  with  dumb 
but  frenzied  signallings,  was  herding  her  censori- 
ous hireling  through  the  door,  and  his  concluding 
remarks  were  lost  in  the  passage  outside. 

Presently  she  returned,  smiling  bravely. 
Hughie  experienced  a  sudden  pang  of  pity  and 
admiration.  Lance's  wife  was  the  right  sort  of 
girl  after  all. 

"I  reelly  must  apologise  — "  she  began. 

But  Hughie  interrupted  her.  He  rose,  and 
looked  her  frankly  in  the  face. 

"Mrs.  Gaymer,"  he  said,  "please  don't  bother 
about  keeping  up  appearances  with  me.  I  never 
cared  a  hang  about  them,  and  never  shall.  Tell 
me,  what  are  you  doing  with  a  bailiff  in  the 
house  ?" 


332          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

Mrs.  Lance  broke  down  and  cried,  —  more 
from  relief  than  anything  else,  —  and  presently 
Hughie,  much  to  his  surprise,  found  himself  sit- 
ting beside  her,  patting  her  large  but  shapely 
hand,  and  uttering  words  of  comfort  and  encour- 
agement into  her  ear. 

IWlpil   lM<<u',S-0'VV;   unjj,    v.fj    JKA-i    |A 

Half  an  hour  later  he  concluded  an  interview 
with  Mr.  Albert  Mould,  broker's  man,  —  late 
James,  the  butler,  —  in  the  dingy  dining-room 
downstairs.  The  latter  gentleman,  the  more  gor- 
geous items  of  his  apparel  now  replaced  by  gar- 
ments of  equal  social  standing  with  his  boots  and 
trousers,  was  laboriously  writing  a  receipt  with 
Hughie's  fountain-pen,  following  the  movements 
of  the  nib  with  the  end  of  a  protruding  tongue. 
Presently  he  finished. 

"There  you  are,  sir,"  he  said,  breathing  heavily 
upon  the  paper  to  dry  the  ink.  "Twenty-seven, 
fifteen,  eight  —  and  thank  you !  What  beats  me," 
he  added  reflectively,  "is  'ow  you  spotted  me. 
What  was  it  give  me  away?  Seems  to  me  I 
looked  all  right.  I  was  wearin*  the  young  feller's 
evenin*  coat  and  one  of  'is  shirts,  and  I  thought 
I  was  lookin'  a  treat  all  the  time.  Was  it  me 
trousis  ?" 

To  avoid  wounding  his  guest's  feelings,  Hughie 
agreed  that  it  was  his  trousis. 

"  It's  a  queer  trade,  this  of  yours,"  he  said. 


CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME    333 

"You  got  to  earn  a  livin'  some'ow,"  said  Mr. 
Mould  apologetically,  "same  as  any  other  yew- 
man  bean.  It's  not  a  bad  job,  as  jobs  go.  They 
carry  on  a  lot,  o'  course,  when  you're  first  put  in, 
and  usually  the  wife  cries ;  but  they  soon  finds  out 
as  you  won't  do  'em  no  'arm.  You  makes  your 
inventory  and  settles  down  in  the  kitching,  with 
a  pint  o'  somethink  in  your  'and  an'  a  pipe  in 
your  face,  and  in  less  than  'alf  a  tick  you're  one 
o'  the  family,  a'most.  Why,  I've  'elped  wash  the 
baby  afore  now." 

"Don't  you  ever  get  thrown  out?"  asked 
Hughie. 

"I  'ave  bin,"  replied  Mr.  Mould,  in  a  tone 
which  gently  reproved  the  tactlessness  of  the 
question,  "  but  not  often.  After  all,  I  only  come 
in  agin ;  and  it's  a  matter  of  seven  days  for  as- 
sault, p'raps,  on  top  o'  the  distraint.  Most  of  'em 
'as  the  sense  to  remember  that,  so  they  humours 
me,  as  it  were.  They  speak  me  fair,  and  give  me 
jobs  to  do  about  the  house.  Still,  it  were  a  bit  of  a 
surprise  when  'er  ladyship  comes  'ome  to-day 
about  two  o'clock  and  asks  me  would  'arf-a-crown 
be  any  good  to  me,  and,  if  so,  would  I  mind 
playin'  at  bein'  a  butler  for  a  hour  or  two.  I  felt 
a  fool,  like,  dressed  up  that  way,  but  I  always 
was  one  to  oblige  a  bit  o'  skirt.  Been  weak  with 
women,"  he  added  autobiographically,  "from  a 
boy.  This  fer  me  ?"  as  Hughie  opened  the  street- 


334         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

door  and  sped  the  parting  guest  in  a  particularly 
acceptable  manner.  "Thank  you,  Captain! 
Good  day !" 

He  shuffled  down  the  steps  and  along  the  street, 
obviously  on  his  way  to  liquidate  Hughie's  half- 
crown,  and  the  donor  of  that  gratuity  returned 
to  the  dining-room,  where  he  took  Mr.  Mould's 
laboriously  indited  receipt  from  the  table.  Then 
he  went  upstairs,  feeling  desperately  sorry  for 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lance.  He  had  done  what  he  could 
for  them,  in  his  eminently  practical  fashion,  and 
set  them  on  their  feet  again ;  but  —  for  how  long  ? 
Debts!  Millstones!  Poor  things! 

On  the  landing  above  he  encountered  Mrs. 
Gaymer,  wide-eyed  and  incredulous. 

"Lance  would  like  to  see  you  now,"  she  said. 
"  In  here !"  She  opened  a  door.  "  And  —  and  — 
I  say,'*  she  added,  half  in  a  whisper,  "surely  you 
don't  mean  to  say  he's  been  and  gaum!" 

For  answer  Hughie  awkwardly  handed  her  the 
stamped  receipt,  and  passed  into  the  bedroom. 

His  interview  with  Lance  lasted  an  hour  and 
a  half.  Much  passed  between  them  during  that 
period,  and  by  the  time  Hughie  rose  and  said  he 
must  be  going,  each  man  had  entirely  revised  his 
opinion  of  the  other.  Most  of  us  have  the  right 
stuff  concealed  in  us  somewhere,  however  heavily 
it  may  be  overlaid  by  folly  or  vanity  or  desire 
to  make  a  show.  There  are  few  men  who  do  not 


CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME     335 

improve  on  acquaintance,  once  you  get  right 
through  the  veneer. 

Poor  Lance,  struggling  in  deep  waters,  sud- 
denly discovered  in  the  dour  and  undemonstrative 
Hughie  a  cheerful  helper  and  —  most  precious  of 
all  to  a  proud  nature  — an  entirely  uncritical  con- 
fidant. Hughie  on  his  part  discovered  what  he 
had  rather  doubted  before,  namely,  that  Lance 
was  a  man.  Moreover,  he  presently  laid  bare  a 
truly  human  and  rather  sad  tale  of  genuine  ability 
and  secret  ambition,  heavily  handicapped  by 
youthful  cocksureness  and  want  of  ballast. 

They  discussed  many  things  in  that  dingy  bed- 
room :  Lance's  past ;  Uncle  Jimmy's  little  allow- 
ance, mortgaged  many  years  in  advance;  the 
creditors  to  whom,  together  with  the  law  of  the 
land,  he  was  indebted  for  the  presence  beneath 
his  roof  of  the  versatile  Mr.  Mould;  his  future; 
the  journalistic  work  which  was  promised  him 
as  soon  as  he  should  be  fit  again ;  Mrs.  Lance ; 
and  also  Mr.  Haliburton. 

Joan's  name  was  barely  mentioned.  Lance 
exhibited  a  newborn  delicacy  in  the  matter.  His 
officious  solicitude  on  his  sister's  behalf  was 
dead;  he  knew  now  that  no  woman  need  ever 
regret  having  trusted  Hugh  Marrable;  and  he 
was  content  to  leave  it  at  that. 

"Well,  I  must  be  moving,"  said  Hughie  at  last. 
"Buck  up,  and  get  fit!  It's  good  to  hear  that 


336          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

there's  work  waiting  for  you  when  you  get  about 
again.  Grand  tonic,  that!  So  long!" 

He  shook  Lance's  hand,  and  the  two  parted 
undemonstratively.  Lance  made  no  set  speech: 
he  appreciated  Hughie's  desire  that  there  should 
be  no  returning  of  thanks  or  contrite  expressions 
of  gratitude.  All  he  said  was :  — 

"Hughie,  you  are  a  sportsman!" 

Then  he  settled  down  on  his  pillow  with  a 
happy  sigh.  He  had  paid  Hughie  the  highest 
compliment  it  was  in  his  power  to  bestow  —  and 
that  costs  an  Englishman  an  effort. 

So  they  parted.  But  Mrs.  Lance  did  not  let 
Hughie  off  so  easily.  As  she  accompanied  him 
downstairs  to  open  the  door  for  him,  she  sud- 
denly seized  his  hand  and  kissed  it.  Tears  were 
running  down  her  cheeks. 

Hughie  grew  red. 

"I  say,  Mrs.  Lance,"  he  said  in  clumsy  expos- 
tulation, "it's  all  right,  you  know!  He'll  soon 
be  quite  well  again." 

"Let  me  cry,"  said  Mrs.  Lance  comfortably. 
"It  does  me  good." 

They  stood  together  in  the  obscurity  of  the 
shabby  little  hall,  and  Hughie,  surveying  the 
flamboyant  but  homely  figure  before  him,  won- 
dered what  the  future  might  hold  in  store  for 
this  little  household.  It  all  depended,  of  course, 
on  — 


CHARITY  BEGINS  AT  HOME     337 

"Mrs.  Lance,"  he  said  suddenly,  "tell  me  — 
do  you  —  love  him  ?" 

"I  do!"  repjied  Mrs.  Lance,  in  a  voice  which 
for  the  moment  relegated  her  patchouli  and 
dyed  eyebrows  to  nothingness. 

"And  does  he  —  love  you ?" 

"He  does  —  thank  God!" 

"You  are  both  all  right,  then,"  said  Hughie, 
nodding  a  wise  head.  "  Nothing  matters  much  — 
except  that!" 

"That's  true,"  said  Mrs.  Gaymer.  "But  — I 
wonder  how  you  knew!"  she  added  curiously. 

"Good-bye!"  said  Hughie. 

As  Hughie  stood  in  the  darkening  street  a 
church  clock  began  to  chime.  He  looked  at  his 
watch. 

It  was  six  o'clock,  and  he  had  promised  faith- 
fully to  be  at  Joey's  entertainment  at  eight !  He 
had  good  reason  for  his  absence,  it  is  true,  but  a 
reason  is  not  always  accepted  as  an  excuse. 

"I've  fairly  torn  it,  this  time!"  he  reflected 
morosely. 

He  was  right. 

Early  next  morning  he  arrived  at  the  village 
station  by  the  newspaper  train,  and  made  his 
way  on  foot  to  Manors.  A  sleepy  housemaid  was 
sweeping  out  the  hall,  which  was  strewn  with 
confetti,  —  some  cotillion  figures  had  been  in- 


338         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

eluded  in  last  night's  festivities,  —  and  as  Hughie 
made  his  way  to  his  dressing-room,  intent  upon 
a  bath  and  shave  before  breakfast,  he  reflected 
not  without  satisfaction  that,  despite  Joey's  pro- 
spective fulminations,  he  had  escaped  something 
by  missing  his  train. 

On  his  dressing-table  he  found  a  note,  ad- 
dressed to  him  in  Joan's  handwriting.  It  said :  — 

DEAR  HUGHIE,  —  To-night  at  the  dance  Mr. 
Haliburton  asked  me  to  marry  him.  Being  a 
dutiful  ward  above  all  things,  I  have  referred 
him  to  you.  He  is  coming  to  see  you  to-morrow 
afternoon  —  that  is,  if  you  are  back.  I  hope  you 
had  a  good  time  in  town.  J. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

EX  MACHINA 

Miss  JOAN  GAYMER,  pleasantly  fatigued  after 
last  night's  dissipation,  reclined  in  a  canvas  chair 
on  the  lawn  at  Manors.  She  had  just  finished 
reading  a  letter  which  had  arrived  by  the  after- 
noon post.  It  was  from  her  brother  Lance,  and 
conveyed,  probably  a  good  deal  more  fully  than 
Hughie  himself  would  have  done,  the  reasons 
for  Hughie' s  absence  on  the  previous  evening. 
Joan's  brow  was  puckered  thoughtfully,  and  she 
surveyed  the  tips  of  her  small  shoes,  which  were 
cocked  at  an  unladylike  altitude  upon  a  stool  in 
front  of  her,  with  a  profundity  of  maiden  medita- 
tion which  was  perhaps  explained  by  the  fact 
that  she  had  received  a  proposal  of  marriage  the 
evening  before,  and  was  expecting  the  proposer 
to  come  and  second  his  own  motion  at  any 
moment. 

To  her  entered  suddenly  Jno.  Alex.  Goble. 

"Yon  felly!"  he  intimated  austerely. 

"Mr.  Haliburton,  do  you  mean,  John?"  in- 
quired Miss  Gaymer,  hastily  letting  down  her 
feet. 

"Aye.    Wull  I  loose  him  in  here?" 


840         THE   UNJUST  STEWARD 

"Yes,  please.  No  —  I  mean  — " 

But  Cupid's  messenger  was  gone.  Presently 
he  returned,  and,  with  the  air  of  one  introducing 
the  Coroner  to  the  foreman  of  the  jury,  an- 
nounced Mr.  Haliburton. 

That  ardent  suitor  advanced  gallantly  across 
the  lawn,  and  taking  Joan's  hand  with  an  air 
of  respectful  rapture,  endeavoured  to  draw  its 
owner  into  the  shade  of  the  copper  beech.  Joan 
forestalled  his  intentions  by  saying  at  once,  — 

"  Come  along  into  the  library,  Mr.  Haliburton, 
and  we'll  see  what  my  guardian  has  to  say  to 
you." 

Mr.  Haliburton  hinted  that  there  was  no  hurry, 
and  made  a  pointed  reference  to  Amaryllis  and 
the  shade ;  but  his  unsentimental  nymph  marched 
him  briskly  across  the  lawn,  round  the  corner  of 
the  house,  and  in  at  the  front  door. 

They  crossed  the  cool,  dark  hall,  and  Joan 
tapped  at  the  oaken  door  of  the  library. 

"Come  in,"  said  a  voice. 

The  lovers  entered. 

"I  have  brought  Mr.  Haliburton  to  see  you, 
Hughie,"  remarked  Miss  Gaymer,  much  as  one 
might  announce  the  arrival  of  a  person  to  inspect 
the  gas  meter. 

Mr.  Haliburton,  who  was  not  the  man  to  show 
embarrassment,  whether  he  felt  it  or  not,  ad- 
vanced easily  into  the  room.  Joan  surveyed  his 


EX  MACHINA  341 

straight  back  and  square  shoulders  as  he  passed 
her,  and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  twitched,  ever 
so  little. 

Then  she  looked  at  Hughie.  It  was  her  first 
meeting  with  him  since  his  return  home  that 
morning.  He  had  answered  her  note  by  another, 
saying  that  he  would  be  in  the  library  at  five 
o'clock.  There  was  no  twitching  about  his  mouth. 
It  was  closed  like  a  steel  trap ;  and  he  stood  with 
his  back  to  the  wood-fire  which  glowed  in  the 
grate  —  it  was  getting  on  in  September,  and  cold 
out  of  the  sun  —  with  absolute  stolidity.  Joan 
saw  at  a  glance  that,  whatever  the  difficulties 
of  the  position,  her  guardian's  line  of  action  was 
now  staked  out  and  his  mind  made  up  —  one  way 
or  the  other. 

She  dropped  into  an  arm-chair. 

"Now,  you  two/'  she  remarked  encouragingly, 
"  get  to  work !  I  want  to  hear  what  each  of  you 
has  got  to  say  about  my  future.  It  will  be  quite 
exciting  —  like  going  to  a  palmist!" 

The  two  men  turned  and  regarded  her  in  un- 
feigned surprise.  They  had  not  expected  this. 
Haliburton  began  swiftly  to  calculate  whether 
Joan's  presence  would  be  a  help  to  him  or  not. 
But  Hughie  said  at  once :  — 

"You  must  leave  us  alone,  Joan,  please!  I 
can't  possibly  allow  you  to  remain." 

Joan  lay  back  in  her  chair  and  smiled  up  at 


342          THE   UNJUST  STEWARD 

him,  frankly  mutinous.  She  had  never  yet  failed, 
when  she  so  desired,  to  "  manage"  a  man.  Hughie 
was  regarding  her  stonily ;  but  two  minutes,  she 
calculated,  would  make  him  sufficiently  pliable. 

She  was  wrong.  At  the  end  of  this  period 
Hughie  was  still  rigidly  waiting  for  her  to  leave 
the  room.  Joan, a  little  surprised  at  his  obstinacy, 
remarked :  — 

"  If  you  are  going  to  object  to  —  to  Mr.  Hali- 
burton's  suggestions,  Hughie,  I  think  I  ought  to 
hear  what  the  objections  are." 

"Before  you  go,"  said  Hughie  in  even  tones,  "I 
will  tell  you  one  thing  —  and  that  should  be  suffi- 
cient. It  is  this.  There  is  not  the  slightest  pros- 
pect of  this  —  this  engagement  coming  off.  My 
reasons  for  saying  so  I  am  prepared  to  give  to  Mr. 
Haliburton,  and  if  he  thinks  proper  he  can  com- 
municate them  to  you  afterwards.  But  I  don't 
think  he  will.  Now  will  you  leave  us,  please  ?" 

Joan  was  genuinely  astonished.  But  she  con- 
trolled herself.  She  was  determined  to  see  the 
matter  out  now.  All  the  woman  in  her  —  and  she 
was  all  woman  —  answered  to  the  challenge  con- 
tained in  Hughie's  dictatorial  attitude.  Besides, 
she  was  horribly  curious. 

She  heaved  a  sad  little  sigh,  and  made  certain 
shameless  play  with  her  eyes  which  she  knew 
stirred  poor  Hughie  to  the  point  of  desperation, 
and  surveyed  the  result  through  drooping  lashes 


EX  MACHINA  343 

with  some  satisfaction.  Hughie's  mouth  was  fast 
shut,  and  he  was  breathing  through  his  nose ;  and 
Joan  could  see  a  little  pulse  beating  in  his  right 
temple.  (Both  of  them,  for  the  moment,  had 
forgotten  the  ardent  suitor  by  the  window.)  She 
would  win  through  in  a  moment  now. 

But  alas!  she  had  forgotten  a  masculine  wea- 
pon against  which  all  the  Votes  for  Women  in 
the  world  will  avail  nothing,  when  it  comes  to  a 
pinch. 

Hughie  suddenly  relaxed  his  attitude,  and 
strode  across  to  the  door,  which  he  held  open  for 
her. 

"At  once,  please!"  he  said  in  a  voice  which 
Joan  had  never  heard  before,  though  many  men 
had. 

Without  quite  knowing  why,  Miss  Gaymer 
rose  meekly  from  her  chair  and  walked  out  of  the 
room.  The  door  closed  behind  her. 

When  Joan  found  herself  on  the  lawn  again  she 
gasped  a  little. 

"  Ooh ! "  she  said  breathlessly.  "  I  —  I  feel  just 
as  if  I'd  been  hit  in  the  face  by  a  big  wave !  This 
game  is  not  turning  out  quite  as  you  expected, 
Joey,  my  child :  the  man  Hughie  is  one  up !  Still, 
I'll  take  it  out  of  him  another  time.  But  —  hea- 
vens!"—  She  was  staring,  like  Red  Riding- 
Hood  on  a  historic  occasion,  at  a  recumbent  figure 


344         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

in  her  canvas  chair  beneath  the  copper  beech  — 
"Who  on  earth  is  that  in  my  chair?   It's  —  it's 

—  oh!   Joey  Gaymer,  you Ve  got  hysterics !   It's 

—  it's  — Uncle  Jimmy !  Uncle  Jimmy  I .  .  .  My 
Uncle  —  Jimmy  /" 

Next  moment  she  was  reposing  comfortably,  a 
distracted  bundle  of  tears  and  laughter,  in  the 
arms  of  Jimmy  Marrable. 

"A  bit  sudden — eh,  young  lady?"  enquired 
that  gentleman  at  last.  "I  ought  to  have  written, 
I  suppose.  But  I  quite  forgot  you  would  all  think 
I  was  dead.  Never  mind  —  I'm  not!" 

He  blew  his  nose  resonantly  to  substantiate  his 
statement. 

Joan,  satisfied  at  last  that  he  was  real,  and 
greatly  relieved  to  find  that  she  was  not  suffering 
from  hysterical  delusions  arising  from  Hughie's 
brutal  treatment  of  her,  enquired  severely  of  the 
truant  where  he  had  been  for  the  last  five  years. 

Jimmy  Marrable  told  her.  It  was  a  long  story, 
and  the  shadow  of  the  copper  beech  had  percep- 
tibly lengthened  by  the  time  the  narrator  had  em- 
barked at  Zanzibar  for  the  port  of  Leith.  They 
had  the  garden  to  themselves,  for  the  Leroys  were 
out. 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  adventures, 
because  I'm  simply  bursting  with  questions," 
said  Miss  Gaymer  frankly.  "  First  of  all,  why  did 
you  go  away  ?  You  rushed  off  in  such  a  hurry  that 


EX  MACHINA  345 

you  had  no  time  to  explain.  I  was  barely  eighteen 
then." 

"  It  was  the  old  failing  —  the  Marrable  wan- 
dering tendency,"  replied  her  uncle.  "  I  had  kept 
it  at  bay  quite  easily  for  close  on  fifteen  years,  but 
it  came  back  very  hard  and  suddenly  about  that 
time." 

"Why?" 

"  Partly,  I  think,  because  the  only  thing  that 
had  kept  me  at  home  all  those  years  seemed  to  be 
slipping  away  from  me." 

"I  wasn't!"  declared  Miss  Gaymer  stoutly. 
Then  she  reflected.  "  Do  you  mean  —  all  those 
silly  boys  ?  Was  it  them  ?" 

"It  was,"  said  Jimmy  Marrable.  "They  not 
only  put  my  nose  out  of  joint  but  they  bored  me 
to  tears." 

"  You  were  always  worth  the  whole  lot  of  them 
put  together,  dear,"said  Miss  Gaymer  affection- 
ately. 

"I  knew  that,"  replied  Jimmy  Marrable  mod- 
estly, "  but  I  was  n't  quite  sure  if  you  did.  I  saw 
that  for  the  next  two  or  three  years  you  would  be 
healthily  and  innocently  employed  in  making 
fools  of  young  men,  and  so  could  well  afford  to  do 
without  your  old  wreck  of  an  uncle.  The  serious 
part  would  not  come  until  you  grew  up  to  be  of  a 
marriageable  age.  So  I  decided  in  the  meanwhile 
to  treat  myself  to  just  one  last  potter  round  the 


346         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

globe,  and  then,  in  a  couple  of  years  or  so,  come 
home  and  assume  the  onerous  duties  of  chucker- 
out." 

"Then  why  did  you  stay  away  so  long?"  de- 
manded Miss  Gaymer. 

"Because  I  heard  Hughie  had  come  home," 
said  Jimmy  Marrable  simply. 

Joan  started  guiltily,  and  her  hand,  which  was 
resting  in  one  of  the  old  gentleman's,  relaxed  its 
hold  for  a  moment.  Jimmy  Marrable  noticed 
nothing,  and  proceeded :  — 

"I  got  news  of  him  from  a  man  in  Cape  Town. 
His  name  was  Allerton.  He  seemed  a  bit  of  a 
rolling  stone,  but  had  lately  married  the  proprie- 
tress of  a  little  public-house,  Wynberg  way,  and 
was  living  in  great  contentment  and  affluence. 
His  wife  regarded  his  capture  as  the  crowning 
achievement  of  her  life,  and  altogether  they  were 
a  most  devoted  couple.  On  hearing  that  my  name 
was  Marrable,  he  said  he  was  sure  I  must  be 
Hughie's  uncle,  as  Hughie  had  told  him  I  was  the 
only  relation  he  had.  He  was  a  gentleman,  of 
sorts,  and  seemed  to  regard  friend  Hughie  as  a 
kind  of  cross  between  Providence  and  the  Rock 
of  Gibraltar.  They  had  been  through  some  rather 
tough  times  together  —  on  board  the  Orinoco.  I 
expect  Hughie  has  often  told  you  all  about  that  ?" 

Joan  shook  her  head. 

"No  ?  Well,  it  was  like  him  not  to.   However, 


EX  MACHINA  347 

Allerton  told  me  for  a  fact  that  Hughie  was  now 
home  for  good ;  so  I  knew  then  that  my  plans  had 
worked  out  right  after  all,  and  that  I  need  not 
hurry  back.  My  little  girl  was  safe." 

He  sighed  contentedly,  and  patted  Joan's 
hand. 

"I'm  a  happy  old  fossil,  Joey,"  he  said.  "I've 
always  schemed  in  a  clumsy  way  to  bring  this 
about,  and  now  it  has  happened.  'There's  a 
divinity  that  shapes  our  ends,'  you  know.  And 
now,  I  suppose,  you  are  mistress  of  this  old  house. 
How  long  have  you  been  married  ?" 

"We're  not,"  said  Joan  in  a  very  small  voice. 

"Not  what?" 

"Married." 

She  held  up  a  ringless  hand  in  corroboration. 
Jimmy  Marrable  inspected  it. 

"Where's  your  engagement  ring?"  he  de- 
manded. 

Joan  felt  that  there  was  a  bad  time  coming  — 
especially  for  Uncle  Jimmy. 

"We  —  we're  not  engaged,"  she  faltered. 
Then  she  continued  swiftly,  for  there  was  a  look 
on  Jimmy  Marrable's  brown  and  wrinkled  face 
that  frightened  her,  and  she  wanted  to  get  expla- 
nations over :  "  Hughie  and  I  did  n't  quite  care 
for  one  another — in  that  way.  No,  I'm  a  liar.  I 
didn't  care  for  Hughie  in  that  way."  , 

"He  asked  you,  then  ?" 


348         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"Yes.5* 

"And  you  —  would  n't  —  ?" 

Joan  nodded.  She  suddenly  felt  unreasonably 
mean  and  despicable.  She  had  declined  to  marry 
Hughie  in  all  good  faith,  as  she  had  a  perfect 
right  to  do,  for  the  very  sufficient  reason  that  she 
did  not  like  him  —  or  his  way  of  putting  things  — 
well  enough ;  and  she  had  felt  no  particular  com- 
punction at  the  time  in  dealing  the  blow.  But 
none  of  these  reasons  seemed  any  excuse  for  hurt- 
ing Uncle  Jimmy. 

Since  then,  too,  her  feelings  towards  Hughie 
himself  had  altered  to  an  extent  which  she  was 
just  beginning  to  realise.  Of  late  she  had  found 
herself  taking  a  quite  peculiar  interest  in  Hugh- 
ie's  movements.  Why,  she  hardly  knew.  He  paid 
her  few  attentions;  he  was  habitually  uncom- 
promising in  what  he  considered  the  execution  of 
his  duty ;  and  he  had  made  a  shocking  mess  of  her 
affairs.  But  —  he  was  in  trouble ;  people  were 
down  on  him;  and  he  had  been  her  friend  ever 
since  she  could  remember. 

Now  Joan  Gaymer,  if  she  was  nothing  else, 
was  loyal ;  and  loyalty  in  a  woman  rather  thrives 
on  adversity  than  otherwise.  And  a  woman's  loy- 
alty to  a  man  who  is  her  friend,  if  you  endeavour 
to  overstrain  it  or  drive  it  into  a  corner,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  will  protect  itself,  Proteus-like,  by 
turning  into  something  entirely  different,  a  some- 


EX  MACHINA  349 

thing  which  is  quite  impervious  to  outward  attack 
and  can  only  be  strained  to  breaking-point  by  one 
person  —  the  man  himself;  and  not  always  then, 
as  countless  undeserving  husbands  know.  Joan's 
loyalty  to  Hughie  was  in  some  such  process  of 
transition.  She  thought  about  him  a  good  deal, 
but  she  had  never  once  faced  the  question  of  her 
ultimate  relations  with  him.  The  modern  maiden 
is  not  given  to  candid  analysis  of  her  own  feelings 
towards  members  of  the  opposite  sex,  —  she  con- 
siders these  exercises  "Early  Victorian,"  or  "sen- 
timental," or  "effeminate";  and  consequently 
Joan  had  never  frankly  asked  herself  what  she 
really  thought  about  Hughie  Marrable.  At  times, 
say  when  she  heard  people  speak  ill  of  her  deputy- 
guardian  behind  his  back,  she  had  been  conscious 
that  she  was  hot  and  angry ;  at  others,  when  some- 
thing occurred  to  bring  home  to  her  with  special 
force  the  tribulations  that  Hughie  was  enduring, 
she  had  been  conscious  of  a  large  and  dim  deter- 
mination to  "make  it  up  to  him,"  in  some  man- 
ner as  yet  undefined  and  at  some  time  as  yet  un- 
specified. In  short,  like  many  a  daughter  of  Eve 
before  her,  she  had  not  known  her  own  mind.  She 
knew  it  now.  Her  heart  smote  her. 

Suddenly  Jimmy  Marrable's  voice  broke  in 
with  the  rather  unexpected  but  not  altogether  un- 
reasonable question :  — 

"Then  if  you  are  n't  either  engaged  or  married 


350         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

to  Hughie,  may  I  ask  what  the  deuce  you  are  do- 
ing in  his  house  ?" 

"It  is  n't  his  house,"  replied  Joan,  recalling  her 
wandering  attention  to  the  rather  irascible  figure 
by  her  side.  "  He  has  let  it  to  the  Leroys,  and  he 
and  I  are  both  staying  here  as  guests  just  now." 

"What  on  earth  did  the  boy  want  to  let  the 
place  for  ?  Why  could  n't  you  and  the  Leroys 
come  and  stay  here  as  his  guests  ?" 

"I  think,"  said  Miss  Gaymer  delicately,  "that 
Hughie  is  —  rather  hard  up." 

"  Hard  up  ?  Stuff !  He  has  eight  hundred  a 
year,  and  enough  coming  in  from  the  estate  to 
make  it  pay  its  own  way  without  any  expense  to 
him.  How  much  more  does  he  want?" 

"I  don't  think  Hughie  is  a  very  good  business 
man,"  said  Joan. 

She  made  the  remark  in  sincere  defence  of 
Hughie,  just  as  a  mother  might  say,  "  Ah,  but  he 
always  had  a  weak  chest!"  when  her  offspring 
comes  in  last  in  the  half-mile  handicap.  But 
Jimmy  Marrable,  being  a  man,  took  the  sugges- 
tion as  a  reproach. 

"Nonsense!"  he  said  testily.  "Hughie  has  as 
hard  a  head  as  any  man  I  know.  What  do  you 
mean  by  running  him  down  ?  Have  you  any  com- 
plaint to  make  of  the  way  he  has  managed  your 
affairs  —  eh  ?" 

"None  whatever,"  said  Joan  promptly. 


EX  MACHINA  351 

"But  —  bless  my  soul!"  cried  Jimmy  Marra- 
ble;  "I  forgot!  You  haven't  got  — "  He 
paused,  and  appeared  to  be  working  out  some 
abstruse  problem  in  his  head.  "  Look  here,  Joey," 
he  continued  presently,  "  if  you  are  n't  married 
to  Hughie,  what  are  you  living  on  ?" 

Joan  stared  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"On  the  money  you  left  behind  for  me,"  she 
said.  "What  else?" 

The  old  gentleman  regarded  her  intently  for 
a  moment,  and  then  said :  — 

"  Of  course :  I  forgot.  I  suppose  Hughie  pays 
it  to  you  quarterly." 

"  Yes  —  into  my  bank  account,"  replied  Miss 
Gaymer  with  a  touch  of  pride. 

"How  much?" 

"Is  it  quite  fair  to  tell  ?"  inquired  Joan,  instinc- 
tively protecting  her  fraudulent  trustee. 

"  Of  course.  It  was  my  money  in  the  first  in- 
stance. Go  on  —  how  much  ?" 

"Four  hundred  a  year,"  said  Joan.  "It  was 
three  hundred  at  first.  Hughie  told  me  you  had  n't 
left  as  much  as  he  expected,  and  that  I  should 
have  to  be  careful.  But  Ursula  Harbord  —  she 
is  the  girl  I  share  a  flat  with:  she  is  frightfully 
clever  about  money  and  business  —  told  me  to 
ask  Hughie  what  interest  I  was  getting  on  my 
capital,  or  something.  I  found  out  for  her  —  four 
per  cent,  I  think  it  was  —  and  she  said  it  was  n't 


352         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

nearly  enough.  There  were  things  called  prefer- 
ence shares,  or  something,  that  pay  ten  or  twelve 
per  cent ;  and  Hughie  must  sell  out  at  once,  and 
buy  these  instead.  What's  the  matter?" 

Jimmy  Marrable  had  suddenly  choked. 

"Nothing!  Nothing!"  he  said,  in  some  con- 
fusion. "A  smart  girl,  this  friend  of  yours! 
Takes  a  large  size  in  boots  and  gloves,  I  should 
say,  and  acts  as  honorary  treasurer  to  various 
charitable  organisations !  Twelve  per  cent !  Aha ! " 
He  slapped  himself  feebly.  "And  what  did 
Master  Hughie  say  to  that?'9 

"I  could  see  he  did  n't  half  like  it,"  continued 
Joan ; "  but  Ursula  had  declared  that  if  I  would  n't 
allow  her  to  speak  to  him,  she  would  consult 
some  responsible  person ;  as  she  was  sure  Hughie 
was  mismanaging  things  disgracefully.  So  to  keep 
her  quiet  I  let  her.  I  think  Hughie  saw  there  was 
something  in  what  she  said,  though ;  because  he 
immediately  agreed  to  give  me  four  hundred  a 
year  in  future  instead  of  three.  Is  it  enough,  Un- 
cle Jimmy,  or  has  poor  Hughie  really  made  a 
mess  of  things,  as  people  say  ?  Say  it's  enough, 
Uncle  Jimmy!  I  know  he  did  his  best,  and  I'd 
rather  go  without  — " 

"Enough?" 

Jimmy  Marrable  turned  and  scrutinised  his 
ward  closely,  as  if  appraising  her  exact  value. 
Certainly  she  was  very  lovely.  He  whistled 


EX  MACHINA  353 

softly,  and  nodded  his  head  in  an  enigmatical 
manner. 

"  I  'd  have  done  it  myself,"  he  murmured  darkly. 
"Enough?"  he  repeated  aloud.  "My  little  girl, 
do  you  know  how  much  capital  an  income  of  four 
hundred  a  year  represents  ?" 

Joan  shook  her  head.  Her  experience  of  fi- 
nance was  limited  to  signing  a  cheque  in  the 
proper  corner. 

"Well,  about  ten  thousand  pounds.'* 

"Hoo!"  said  Miss  Gaymer,  pleasantly  flut- 
tered. "Have  I  got  all  that?" 

"No." 

"Oh!   How  much,  then?" 

Jimmy  Marrable  told  her. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IN  WHICH  LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW 

HUGHIE  closed  the  door  on  Joan,  and  breathed 
a  gentle  sigh  of  relief.  He  was  spoiling  for  a  fight, 
and  he  had  just  got  his  hands  free,  so  to  speak. 
Brief  but  perfect  satisfaction  lay  before  him. 

He  resumed  his  position  in  front  of  the  fire. 
Mr.  Haliburton  sat  on  an  oak  table  and  swung 
his  legs. 

"Now,  Marrable  — "  began  the  latter  briskly. 

Hughie  interrupted  him. 

"Mr.  Haliburton,"  he  said,  "you  heard  my 
intimation  to  Miss  Gaymer  just  now?" 

"I  did,"  said  Mr.  Haliburton. 

"Well,  I  should  like  to  repeat  it  to  you.  The 
marriage  which  has  been  arranged  —  by  you  — 
will  not  take  place.  That 's  all." 

"That,"  replied  Mr.  Haliburton  easily,  "is  a 
matter  for  Joan  and  myself  — " 

"We  will  refer  to  my  ward  as  Miss  Gaymer  for 
the  rest  of  this  interview,"  said  Hughie  stiffly. 

"Certainly.  To  resume.  You  see,  Marrable, 
although  you  were  appointed  Miss  Gaymer's 
guardian  by  the  eccentric  old  gentleman  who 
bears  the  same  name  as  yourself,  your  authority 


LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW   355 

does  not  last  for  ever.  I  understand  that  the  lady 
will  shortly  become  her  own  mistress." 

"She  will." 

"In  which  case  she  will  have  the  control  of 
her  own  property." 

"That  is  so." 

"Well,"  — Mr.  Haliburton  paused,  and  flicked 
the  ash  off  his  cigarette,  —  "don't  you  think  that 
this  display  of  authority  on  your  part,  consider- 
ing that  it  is  subject  to  a  time-limit,  is  rather 
ridiculous?" 

"I  have  only  one  observation  to  make  on  that 
point,"  said  Hughie  coolly,  "and  that  is,  that  I 
have  made  no  display  of  authority  of  any  kind." 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Haliburton,  raising  his 
histrionic  eyebrows,  "aren't  you  forbidding  the 
banns?" 

"I  have  never  forbidden  anything.  I  have 
merely  stated  that  the  match  will  not  come  off." 

"Don't  let  us  quibble,  man !"  said  Haliburton 
impatiently.  He  got  off  the  table.  "Look  here, 
Marrable,  there  is  no  need  for  you  and  me  to  be 
mealy-mouthed  in  this  matter.  Let 's  be  frank. 
You  want  this  girl:  so  do  I.  She  can't  marry 
both  of  us,  so  she  must  pick  one.  She  has  picked 
me:  I  have  her  word  for  it.  She  says  she  cares 
for  me  more  than  any  man  in  the  world,  and 
would  tramp  the  roads  with  me.  And  I  with  her ! 
Why,  man  — " 


356         THE   UNJUST  STEWARD 

As  he  uttered  these  noble  words  Mr.  Halibur- 
ton  struck  an  attitude  which  many  young  women 
in  the  front  row  of  the  pit  would  have  considered 
highly  dramatic,  but  which  merely  struck  the 
prejudiced  and  unsympathetic  male  before  him 
as  theatrical  in  the  extreme. 

"  Drop  it ! "  said  Hughie.  "  You  make  me  quite 
sick.'* 

He  spoke  the  truth.  He  did  not  know  whether 
Haliburton's  rhapsody  rested  on  any  assured 
foundation  or  not.  But  in  any  case  Joan's  fresh 
and  innocent  youth  was  a  very  sacred  thing,  and 
even  the  suggestion  that  she  could  have  anything 
in  common  with  this  glorified  super  made  him 
feel  physically  unwell. 

Mr.  Haliburton  broke  off,  and  smiled. 

"Marrable,"  he  said,  almost  genially,  "we 
understand  each  other!  I  see  you  want  plain 
English.  I  said  just  now  that  we  were  both  fond 
of  the  girl.  So  we  are.  But  I  fancy  we  are  both 
a  bit  fonder  of  her  little  bit  of  stuff  —  eh  ?  Now, 
you  have  been  handling  the  dibs  for  a  matter  of 
eighteen  months,  I  understand.  You  have  feath- 
ered your  nest  pretty  comfortably,  from  all  I  hear. 
Don't  be  a  dog  in  the  manger !  Let  your  friends 
into  a  good  thing  too ! " 

The  mask  was  off  with  a  vengeance.  Hughie 
swallowed  something  and  thanked  God  that,  if 
his  wanderings  among  mankind  had  taught  him 


LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW  357 

nothing  else,  they  had  taught  him  to  hold  himself 
in  till  the  time  came.  He  said :  — 

"  Haliburton,  I  have  told  you  several  times  that 
I  do  not  forbid  this  engagement ;  because,  as  you 
have  very  acutely  pointed  out,  my  veto  does  not 
last  for  ever ;  but  the  match  is  not  coming  off,  for 
all  that.  Before  you  go  I  will  explain  what  I  mean. 
I  don't  want  to,  because  the  consequences  may 
be  serious,  both  for  Miss  Gaymer  and  myself; 
but  it  will  show  you  how  absolutely  determined  I 
am  to  make  a  clean  sweep  of  you. 

"I  should  like  to  say  in  the  first  place  that  I 
should  never  have  stood  between  Miss  Gaymer 
and  any  man,  so  long  as  I  honestly  thought  he 
could  make  her  happy  —  not  even  a  man  whom 
I  personally  would  regard  as  an  ass  or  an  out- 
sider. But  there  are  limits  to  everything,  and 
you  strike  me  as  being  the  limit  in  this  case.  I 
have  been  making  inquiries  about  you,  and  I  now 
know  your  antecedents  fairly  well.  You  appar- 
ently are  an  actor  of  sorts,  though  all  the  actors 
of  my  acquaintance  look  distinctly  unwell  when 
your  name  is  mentioned.  However,  whatever 
you  are,  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  any  woman  in 
whom  I  take  an  interest  compelled  to  spend  even 
half  an  hour  in  your  company.  In  fact,  if  you 
had  not  originally  come  down  here  as  a  friend  of 
Lance  Gaymer's, —  over  whom,  by  the  way,  I 
find  you  once  had  some  hold,  —  I  should  have 


358         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

asked  Captain  Leroy's  permission  to  kick  you 
out  of  the  place  some  time  ago!" 

Mr.  Haliburton  looked  a  little  uncomfortable. 
He  held  a  good  hand,  but  Hughie  was  obviously 
not  bluffing.  He  had  an  uneasy  feeling  that 
there  must  be  an  unsuspected  card  out  ^some- 
where. 

"To  come  to  the  main  point,"  continued 
Hughie,  "  I  want  this  engagement  to  be  declared 
off  by  you,  not  by  me.  What  is  your  price  ?" 

Mr.  Haliburton  breathed  again.  Bribery  ? 
Was  that  all  ?  He  replied  briskly :  — 

"How  much  have  you  got?" 

"Is  a  thousand  pounds  any  use?"  asked 
Hughie. 

"Twenty  might  be,"  replied  the  lover. 

"My  limit,"  said  Hughie,  who  was  not  a  man 
to  haggle  about  what  Mr.  Mantalini  once  de- 
scribed as  "demnition  coppers,"  "is  five  thou- 
sand pounds." 

"Talk  sense!"  said  Mr.  Haliburton  briefly. 

"The  offer,"  continued  Hughie  steadily,  "is 
open  for  five  minutes.  If  you  accept  it  I  will  write 
you  a  cheque  now,  and  you  will  sit  down  and 
write  a  letter  formally  breaking  off,  on  your  own 
initiative,  any  engagement  or  understanding  you 
may  have  entered  into  with  Miss  Gaymer,  and 
undertaking  never  to  come  near  her  again ;  and 
I  will  see  she  gets  it.  If  not  —  well,  you  '11  be 


LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW   359 

sorry,  for  you  '11  never  make  such  a  good  bar- 
gain by  any  other  means." 

Haliburton  eyed  him  curiously. 

"  Is  this  your  own  money  you  are  offering  me  ?" 
he  said. 

"It  is,"  said  Hughie,  looking  at  his  watch. 
"Three  minutes  left." 

"Won't  it  make  rather  a  hole  in  your  capital 
account?" 

"  It  will.  In  fact,  hole  won't  be  the  word  for  it ! 
But  it  will  be  worth  it." 

Intelligence  dawned  upon  Mr.  Haliburton. 

"  I  see,"  he  said  slowly.  "  You  expect  to  recoup 
yourself  later,  when  —  when  the  marriage  settle- 
ments are  drawn  up,  eh  ?  Or  perhaps,"  he  added 
sarcastically,  "  eighteen  months  of  careful  trustee- 
ship have  put  you  in  a  position  to  afford  this 
extravagance!" 

Hughie  was  surprised  at  his  own  self-control. 
Only  the  little  pulse  which  Joan  had  noticed  beat 
assiduously  in  his  right  temple. 

"  Fifteen  seconds ! "  he  said.  "  Do  you  take  this 
offer,  Mr.  Haliburton  ?" 

"No." 

"Right!"  Hughie  put  his  watch  back  into  his 
pocket  and  regarded  the  misguided  blackmailer 
before  him  rather  in  the  manner  of  a  benevolent 
policeman  standing  over  a  small  boy  with  a 
cigarette. 


360         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"Your  last  few  remarks,"  he  said,  "have  been 
so  offensive  that  I  know  you  would  not  have  had 
the  pluck  to  make  them  unless  you  thought  you 
had  me  absolutely  under  your  thumb.  But  I  may 
as  well  proceed  to  my  final  move,  and  terminate 
this  interview.  I  am  very  averse  to  taking  this 
particular  step,  because  its  results  may  be  awk-- 
ward,  as  I  said,  for  Miss  Gaymer.  That  is  why  I 
offered  you  practically  all  the  available  money  I 
have  to  call  the  deal  off.  But  I  see  I  can't  help 
myself.  Now,  Haliburton,  —  by  the  way,  I  forgot 
to  mention  that  your  real  name  is  Spratt:  you 
seem  to  have  become  a  big  fish  since  you  took  to 
fortune-hunting,  —  I  am  going  to  make  you  break 
off  your  engagement.  I  am  going  to  pay  you  a 
high  compliment.  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  piece 
of  information,  known  only  to  myself  and  Miss 
Gaymer's  banker,  for  which  you  will  ultimately 
be  very  grateful,  and  the  knowledge  of  which  will 
cause  you,  when  you  get  outside  (which  will  be 
very  soon  now),  to  kick  yourself  for  a  blamed  fool 
because  you  did  not  accept  my  first  offer." 

Mr.  Haliburton- Spratt  shuffled  his  feet  a  trifle 
uneasily,  and  Hughie  continued :  — 

"  You  seem  to  be  suffering  from  an  aggravated 
attack  of  the  prevailing  impression  that  Miss 
Gaymer  is  an  heiress.  Her  fortune  has  been 
variously  estimated  by  tea-table  experts  at  any- 
thing from  forty  to  a  hundred  thousand  pounds. 


LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW  361 

I  will  now  tell  you  what  it  really  is.  Get  off  the 
table:  I  want  to  open  that  dispatch-box." 

Mr.  Haliburton,  conscious  of  a  slight  sinking 
sensation  just  below  the  second  button  of  his 
waistcoat,  moved  as  requested,  and  Hughie  took 
out  of  the  box  a  bank-book  and  a  bulky  letter. 

"When  I  came  home  from  abroad,"  he  said, 
"  I  found  this  letter  awaiting  me.  It  is  from  my 
uncle.  The  following  passage  will  interest  you: 
* .  .  .  I  have  realised  practically  all  my  personal 
estate,  and  have  placed  the  cash  to  your  credit  on 
Joey's  behalf  —  Joey  is  the  name,"  he  explained 
punctiliously,  "  by  which  Miss  Gaymer  is  known 
to  her  intimate  friends  —  *  at  the  Law  Courts 
Branch  of  the  Home  Counties  Bank.  .  .  .  The 
rest  of  my  property  is  set  down  and  duly  disposed 
of  in  my  will,  and  cannot  be  touched  until  my 
death  is  authenticated.'" 

"I  hope  there  was  a  respectable  sum  in  the 
bank,"  said  Mr.  Haliburton,  his  spirits  rising 
again. 

Hughie  opened  the  pass-book. 

"When  I  went  to  the  bank  in  question,"  he 
said,  "  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  see  the  amount 
of  my  balance,  I  was  handed  this  pass-book. 
From  it  you  will  gather  the  exact  value  of  Miss 
Gaymer' s  fortune  at  the  moment  when  I  took 
over  the  management  of  her  affairs." 

He  handed  the  book  to  Mr.  Haliburton.   That 


362         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

devout  lover  glanced  eagerly  at  the  sum  indi- 
cated on  the  balance-line  —  and  turned  a  delicate 
green. 

"You  see?"  said  Hughie  calmly,  taking  the 
book  back.  "One  hundred  pounds  sterling!  A 
poor  exchange  for  five  thousand,  Mr.  Halibur- 
ton!" 

"Where  is  the  money?"  said  Haliburton 
thickly. 

"That  I  can't  tell  you.  But  you  will  see  by  the 
book  and  this  duly  endorsed  cheque,"  —  he 
picked  a  pink  slip  out  of  the  dispatch-box,  — 
"  that  the  sum  of  thirty-nine  thousand,  nine  hun- 
dred pounds  —  the  amount  he  had  put  in  a  few 
days  before,  less  one  hundred  —  was  drawn  out 
of  the  bank,  in  a  lump,  by  my  uncle  himself  the 
day  before  he  sailed.  Why  he  did  it,  I  can't  imag- 
ine. He  must  have  changed  his  plans  suddenly. 
All  I  know  is  that  he  has  put  me  in  a  very  tight 
place  as  a  trustee,  and  you  in  a  much  tighter  one 
as  a  suitor,  Mr.  Haliburton!" 

He  took  the  cheque  from  the  hands  of  the  de- 
moralized Haliburton,  and  closed  the  dispatch- 
box. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  At  length  Hughie 
said :  — 

"  I  presume  I  may  take  it  that  you  now  desire 
to  withdraw  from  this  engagement?" 

"You  may!"  said  Mr.  Haliburton  emphati- 


LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW  363 

cally.  He  was  too  deeply  chagrined  to  play  his 
part  any  longer. 

Hughie  surveyed  him  critically. 

"  You're  a  direct  rascal,  Spratt,"  he  said ;  "you 
are  no  more  hypocritical  than  you  need  be.  But 
you're  a  rascal  for  all  that.  Well,  I  won't  keep 
you.  Good  afternoon!" 

But  Mr.  Haliburton's  quick-moving  brain  had 
been  taking  in  the  altered  situation,  with  its 
strong  and  weak  points  so  far  as  he  himself  was 
concerned.  He  had  not  lived  by  his  wits  twenty 
years  for  nothing. 

"I  suppose,"  he  observed,  reseating  himself  on 
the  corner  of  the  writing-table,  "it  would  be 
indiscreet  to  inquire  from  what  source  the  young 
lady,  with  a  capital  of  one  hundred  pounds  ster- 
ling, is  at  present  deriving  an  income  of  appar- 
ently three  or  four  hundred  a  year?" 

"  Not  only  indiscreet,  but  positively  unhealthy," 
said  Hughie,  turning  a  dusky  red.  His  fingers 
were  curling  and  uncurling. 

Mr.  Haliburton  directed  upon  him  what  can 
only  be  described  as  a  depredatory  eye. 

"Don't  you  think,  Mr.  Marrable,"  he  said, 
"  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  —  square  me  ?  I 
could  do  with  that  five  thousand.  This  is  a  cen- 
sorious world,  you  know;  and  scandalous  little 
yarns  are  apt  to  get  about  when  a  young  lady 
accepts  —  Hrrrumph  ! ' ' 


364          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

It  was  the  last  straw.  Hughie's  iron  restraint 
snapped  at  last.  Both  his  and  Mr.  Haliburton's 
impressions  of  the  next  few  moments  were  dis- 
tinctly blurred,  but  at  the  end  of  that  period 
Hughie,  breathing  heavily  and  feeling  as  if  he 
had  just  won  a  valuable  prize  in  a  consolation 
race,  found  himself  facing  Jimmy  Marrable,  who 
had  entered  the  door  just  as  Love  (as  represented 
by  Mr.  Haliburton)  flew  out  of  the  window. 

"Hallo,  Hughie!" 

"Hallo,  Uncle  Jimmy!  Half  a  mo' !" 

Mr.  Haliburton,  seated  dizzily  in  a  rose-bed  in 
the  garden,  heard  Hughie's  step  returning  to  the 
French  window  above  his  head.  A  walking-stick 
suddenly  speared  itself  in  the  soil  beside  him,  and 
a  pair  of  gloves  and  a  Homburg  hat  pattered 
delicately  down  upon  his  upturned  countenance ; 
while  Hughie's  voice  intimated  that  there  was  a 
swift  and  well-cushioned  train  back  to  town  at 
six-twenty. 

Then,  closing  the  window  and  leaving  Mr.  Hal- 
iburton to  extract  himself  tenderly  from  his  bed 
of  roses,  cursing  feebly  the  while  and  ruminating 
bitterly  upon  the  unreliability  of  proverbial  expres- 
sions, Hughie  turned  to  the  room  again.  It  had 
just  occurred  to  him  that  in  the  heat  of  the  mo- 
ment he  had  been  a  trifle  cavalier  in  his  reception 
of  a  relative  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  ten  years, 
and  who  he  imagined  had  been  dead  for  four. 


LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW    365 

Half  an  hour  later  Jimmy  Marrable  en- 
quired :  — 

"  Would  it  be  too  much  to  ask  whom  you  were 
throwing  out  of  the  window  when  I  came  in  ?" 

" Friend  of  Joey's,"  said  Hughie  briefly.  "And 
now,  Uncle  Jimmy,"  he  added,  with  clouding 
brow,  —  the  joy  of  battle  was  overpast,  and  the 
horizon  was  dark  with  the  wings  of  all  kinds  of 
chickens  coming  home  to  roost,  —  "I  should  like 
to  inform  you  that  you  and  your  financial  methods 
have  put  me  in  a  devil  of  a  hole.  I  want  an  ex- 
planation." 

"Right.   Fire  away!" 

"  Well,  when  I  took  on  the  job  bequeathed  to 
me  by  you  of  administering  Joan's  affairs,  I  dis- 
covered that  instead  of  being  an  heiress,  the  child 
was  practically  penniless.  For  some  idiotic  reason 
best  known  to  yourself,  you  no  sooner  put  money 
into  the  bank  for  her  than  you  dragged  it  all  out 
again.  Consequently  I  discovered  that  I  was 
booked  to  manage  the  affairs  of  a  girl  whom 
everybody  thought  to  be  the  possessor  of  pots  of 
money,  but  whose  entire  capital" — he  picked 
up  the  pass-book  —  "amounted  in  reality  to  one 
hundred  pounds  sterling." 

"Correct!"  said  Jimmy  Marrable.  "Pro- 
ceed!" 

"If,"  continued  Hughie  in  an  even  and  busi- 
nesslike tone,  "  Joan  had  been  prepared  to  marry 


366          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

me,  the  money  would  n't  have  mattered,  as  she 
could  have  had  mine.  Unfortunately  that  event 
did  not  occur." 

"Did  she  know  she  had  n't  any  money  when 
you  asked  her  to  marry  you  ?"  enquired  Jimmy 
Marrable. 

"No." 

"  And  did  she  go  on  refusing  you  after  you  had 
informed  her  she  was  a  pauper?" 

Hughie  had  seen  this  question  coming  from 
afar.  He  turned  a  delicate  carmine.  His  uncle 
surveyed  him,  and  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"Quite  so!"  he  said.  "Quite  so!  You  never 
told  her." 

"No,"  said  Hughie,  "I  hadn't  the  heart.  It 
seemed  like  —  like  trying  to  coerce  her  into  mar- 
rying me.  No,  I  just  let  her  imagine  that  she  had 
a  tidy  little  fortune  invested,  and  that  she  could 
live  on  the  interest  —  three  hundred  a  year.  I  — 
I  found  that  sum  for  her,  and  she  took  it  all  right. 
After  all,  she  was  a  woman,  and  women  will 
swallow  almost  anything  you  tell  them  about 
money  matters.  If  they  jib  at  all,  all  you  have 
to  do  is  to  surround  yourself  with  a  cloud  of 
technicalities,  and  they  cave  in  at  once.  I  think 
Joey  was  a  little  surprised  at  not  getting  more, 
for  she  had  thought  herself  a  bit  of  an  heiress; 
but  she  never  said  a  word.  In  fact,  she  was  so 
kind  about  it  that  I  saw  she  was  convinced  I  had 


LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW    367 

made  a  mess  of  things  somewhere,  and  must  be 
protected  accordingly.  She  put  it  all  down  to 
my  usual  incompetence,  I  suppose,  —  as  far  as 
I  can  see,  she  considers  me  a  born  fool,  —  and 
accepted  the  situation  loyally." 

"She  would  do  that,"  said  Jimmy  Marrable. 

"Well,"  continued  Hughie,  "Joan  was  all 
right,  but  everybody  else  was  the  devil.  An  awful 
girl  friend  of  hers,  called  Harbord  — " 

"I  know  —  twelve  per  cent!"  gurgled  Jimmy 
Marrable. 

"Yes.  Well,  she  came  and  gave  me  beans  to 
begin  with.  Then  young  Lance  began  to  suspect 
me,  —  he  never  could  stand  me  at  any  price,  — 
and  he  came  and  raised  Cain  one  day  at  a  lunch- 
eon-party I  was  giving  —  but,  by  the  way,  that's 
all  right  now ;  Lance  has  come  round  completely. 
Even  the  Leroys  could  n't  conceal  their  convic- 
tion that  I  had  made  a  bungle  somewhere  —  an 
honest  bungle,  of  course,  but  a  bungle.  And  fin- 
ally an  unutterable  sweep  called  Haliburton  came 
along.  I  knew  something  of  him  —  so  much,  in 
fact,  that  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  there  was 
anything  to  fear  from  him.  But  he  got  the  master- 
grip  on  me  when  every  one  else  had  failed.  Joey 
—  our  Joey  —  fell  in  love  with  him  and  promised 
to  marry  him!" 

"  I  have  heard  nothing  of  this.  What  sort  of 
fellow  is  he?"  enquired  Jimmy  Marrable. 


868         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"  Much  the  same  type,  I  should  say,  as  the  late 
lamented  Gaymer,  senior." 

"Are  you  sure  —  about  her  falling  in  love?" 
continued  Jimmy  Man-able,  in  a  puzzled  voice. 

"Looks  like  it,"  said  Hughie.  "I  was  away 
yesterday,  and  got  back  early  this  morning.  I 
found  a  note  from  Joey  on  my  dressing-table, 
saying  that  Haliburton  had  proposed  to  her,  and 
that  she  was  sending  him  along  to  me  to  ask  for 
my  consent.  She  would  n't  have  gone  as  far  as 
that  if  she  did  n't  —  if  she  did  n't"  —  His  voice 
shook.  "It  was  a  pill  for  me,  Uncle  Jimmy!" 

"What  did  you  do  ?"  said  Jimmy  Marrable. 

"  I  did  this.  I  knew  quite  well  that  if  Joey  — 
loved  him"  —  the  words  came  from  between  his 
clenched  teeth  —  "she  would  stick  to  him,  black- 
guard or  not.  She's  that  sort." 

"She  is.    Well?" 

"  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  if  there  was  to 
be  a  rupture  of  the  engagement  it  must  come 
from  him." 

"You  made  him  break  it  off?" 

"Yes." 

"  How  ?  By  throwing  him  out  of  the  window  ?" 

"  No.  That  would  have  been  no  good  if  he  was 
really  after  her  money.  I  simply  told  him  the 
truth  —  the  whole  truth  —  about  her  bank  bal- 
ance, and  so  on.  That  did  it.  He  backed  out  all 
right." 


LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW    369 

Jimmy  Marrable  rubbed  his  hands. 

"And  then?" 

"And  then  ideas  began  to  occur  to  him  — " 

"Exactly.  He  began  to  ask  questions  —  to 
make  innuendoes  — " 

"Yes.  I  then  threw  him  out  of  the  window. 
It  was  some  consolation.  That  is  the  story." 

Hughie  turned  away,  and  gazed  dejectedly 
into  the  fender.  Presently  Jimmy  Marrable 
remarked :  — 

"And  meanwhile  the  fat  is  in  the  fire  ?" 

"It  is,"  said  Hughie  bitterly.  "Uncle  Jimmy, 
what  will  she  think?  Everything  is  bound  to 
come  out  now,  —  that  fellow  will  run  about  tell- 
ing everybody,  —  and  when  she  hears  of  the 
cruel  position  I've  placed  her  in  she'll  never  speak 
to  me  again.  We  shan't  even  be  ordinary  good 
friends  now.  Poor  little  girl!  I've  done  her 
the  worst  turn  a  man  can  do  a  woman;  and  I 
would  have  died  for  her  —  cheerfully!" 

Hughie  leaned  against  the  tall  mantelpiece 
and  dropped  his  head  upon  his  arms.  "Joey! 
Joey!"  he  murmured  to  himself,  very  softly. 

Jimmy  Marrable  retired  to  a  remote  corner 
of  the  room,  where  he  spent  some  time  selecting 
a  cigar  from  Jack  Leroy's  private  locker.  Pre- 
sently he  returned.  Observing  that  his  nephew 
was  apparently  not  quite  ready  to  resume  the 
conversation,  he  spent  some  time  in  lighting  the 


370         THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

cigar,  bridging  over  the  silence  with  a  rumbling 
soliloquy. 

"  It  is  a  blessing  to  be  back  on  dry  land  again," 
he  observed,  "where  cigars  will  keep  in  decent 
condition.  No  more  green  weeds  for  me !  What 
I  like  is  a  good  crisp  Havana  that  splits  open 
if  you  squeeze  the  end,  instead  of  — " 

Hughie  once  more  stood  erect  on  the  hearth- 
rug. The  fit  had  passed. 

Jimmy  Marrable  eyed  him  curiously. 

" Hughie,  boy,"  he  said,  "it  was  a  mad,  mad 
scheme.  Why  did  you  do  it?" 

Hughie  turned  upon  him,  and  blazed  out 
suddenly. 

"  Why  ? "  he  cried.  "Because  there  was  nothing 
else  to  do !  Do  you  think  I  would  let  our  Joey  — 
no,  damn  it !  my  Joey  —  go  out  as  a  governess  or 
a  chorus-girl  —  yes,  she  actually  suggested  that ! 
—  when  I  could  keep  her  happy  and  comfortable 
by  telling  one  little  white  lie  ?  It  may  have  been 
a  mad  thing  to  do;  but  it  was  a  choice  of  evils, 
and  I  'd  do  it  again !  So  stuff  that  up  your  cigar 
and  smoke  it!" 

"Silly  young  owl!"  remarked  Jimmy  Mar- 
rable. He  lit  his  cigar  with  fastidious  care,  and 
continued :  — 

"I  suppose  you  want  an  explanation  from  me 
now?" 

"Yes." 


LOVE  FLIES  OUT  OF  THE  WINDOW  371 

"Well,  the  withdrawal  of  that  money  was  an 
eleventh-hour  notion.  It  suddenly  occurred  to 
me  that  you,  with  your  imbecile  ideas  about 
honour  and  filthy  lucre,  and  so  forth,  might  feel 
squeamish  about  making  love  to  a  girl  with  a 
fat  bank  balance.  So  just  before  I  sailed  I  drew 
the  money  out,  imagining  that  by  so  doing  I 
should  be  removing  the  only  obstacle  to  a  happy 
union  between  you  and  Joey.  The  entire  affair 
was  intended  to  be  a  walk-over  for  you.  Between 
us,  we  seem  to  have  made  a  bonny  mess  of  things. 
Hughie,  we  Marrables  are  not  cut  out  for  fem- 
inine fancy  work.'* 

"What  is  to  be  done  now?"  said  Hughie 
gloomily. 

"I  have  thought  of  that,"  said  Jimmy  Mar- 
rable.  "When  a  man  gets  in  a  hopeless  tangle  of 
any  kind,  his  best  plan  is  to  ask  a  woman  to  help 
him  out.  That  is  what  we  shall  have  to  do.  Wait 
here  a  few  minutes." 

He  turned  towards  the  door. 

"Mildred  Leroy  won't  be  in  for  half  an  hour 
yet,"  called  Hughie  after  him,  "so  it's  no  good 
looking  for  her." 

"All  right!"  replied  Jimmy  Marrable's  voice 
far  up  the  stairs. 


CHAPTER  XX 

SINFUL  WASTE  OF  A  PENNY  STAMP 

TEN  minutes  passed.  Hughie,  leaning  heavily 
against  the  frame  of  the  French  window,  gazed 
listlessly  out  at  a  squirrel  which  was  inviting  him 
to  a  game  of  hide-and-seek  from  the  far  side  of  a 
tree-trunk. 

"One  thing,"  he  mused,  —  "I  shall  be  able  to 
go  abroad  again  now.  No  more  of  this  — " 

There  was  the  faintest  perceptible  rustle  be- 
hind him.  Joan  must  have  come  in  very  quietly, 
for  the  door  was  shut  and  she  was  sitting  on  the 
corner  of  the  writing-table,  —  exactly  where  the 
recently-departed  Haliburton  had  been  posing, 

—  swinging  her  feet  and  surveying  her  late  guard- 
ian's back.   In  her  hand  she  held  a  pink  slip  of 
paper. 

Hughie  never  forgot  the  picture  that  she  pre- 
sented at  that  moment.  She  was  dressed  in  white 

—  something  workmanlike  and  unencumbering 

—  with  a  silver  filigree  belt  around  her  waist.  She 
wore  a  battered  Panama  hat  —  the  sort  of  head- 
gear affected  by  "coons"  of  the  music-hall  per- 
suasion —  with  a  wisp  of  pale  blue  silk  twisted 
round  it.  The  evening  sun,  streaming  through  the 


WASTE   OF  A  STAMP  373 

most  westerly  of  the  windows,  glinted  on  her  hair, 
her  belt,  and  the  silver  buckles  on  her  shoes. 
Hughie  caught  his  breath. 

Joan  spoke  first. 

"Here's  something  for  you,  Hughie,"  she  said. 

Hughie  took  the  proffered  slip  of  paper.  It  was 
a  cheque,  made  out  to  himself  and  signed  by 
Jimmy  Marrable. 

"I  think  that  covers  all  the  expense  to  which 
you  have  been  put  on  my  account  while  Uncle 
Jimmy  has  been  away,"  said  Joan.  Her  voice 
sounded  gruff  and  businesslike. 

Hughie  examined  the  cheque.  *' Yes,"  he  said, 
"it  does." 

"It  was  very  good  of  you,"  said  Joan  formally, 
"to  advance  me  so  much  money.  I  had  no  idea 
you  were  doing  it.  Apparently  you  might  never 
have  got  it  back  again." 

Hughie  gazed  at  her  curiously.  He  began  to 
grasp  the  situation.  He  was  to  be  whitewashed : 
the  compromising  past  was  to  be  decently  buried, 
and  "Temporary  Loan"  was  to  be  its  epitaph. 

"Never  mind  that,"  he  said  awkwardly.  "All 
in  the  day's  work,  you  know !  Afraid  I  was  a  rot- 
ten trustee." 

Suddenly  Joan's  demeanour  changed. 

"And  now,  my  man,"  she  said  briskly,  "will 
you  be  good  enough  to  explain  what  you  mean  by 
compromising  a  lady  in  this  way?" 


374          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

Hughie  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  dismay. 
Then  he  saw  that  her  eyes  were  twinkling,  and  he 
heaved  a  sudden  sigh  of  incredulous  relief.  He 
was  forgiven! 

"Joey!"  he  said,  —  " Joey,  you  mean  to  say 
you're  not  angry?" 

"Furious!"  replied  Miss  Gaymer,  smiling  in 
her  old  friendly  fashion. 

"Thank  God!"  said  Hughie. 

Miss  Gaymer  changed  the  subject,  rather  hur- 
riedly. 

"There's  something  else  I  want  to  ask  you," 
she  said.  "Will  you  kindly  inform  me  what  has 
become  of  my  —  ahem!  —  young  man ?" 

"  Who ?"  said  Hughie.  " Oh,  that  chap  ?  He  is 
gone." 

"Gone?   Where?" 

"London,  I  should  think." 

"Why?" 

"In  the  first  place,  because  I  told  him  about 
your  —  I  mean  —  I  would  n't  advise  you  to  ask 
me,  Joey.  You  see  —  I  should  hate  —  " 

"You  would  hate,"  said  Miss  Gaymer,  com- 
ing to  his  rescue,  "to  say  'I  told  you  so!'  I 
know,  Hughie.  It's  like  you,  and  I  love  you 
for  it." 

Hughie  winced.  These  colloquial  terms  of  en- 
dearment are  sometimes  rather  tantalising.  Still, 
he  must  not  mind  that.  The  girl,  too,  had  had  her 


WASTE   OF  A  STAMP  375 

disappointment,  and  was  bearing  herself  bravely. 
At  least  — 

"  Joey,"  he  said  suddenly,  "did  you  really  care 
for  that  bloke?" 

The  lady  on  the  table  stiffened  suddenly. 

"What — that  poisonous  bounder?"  She 
rolled  up  her  eyes.  "My  che-ild!" 

"But  you  let  him  make  love  to  you.'* 

"Did  I?  I  suppose  you  were  there,"  observed 
Miss  Gaymer  witheringly,  "disguised  as  a  Chi- 
nese lantern!" 

"Well,  what  did  you  do,  then?" 

"He  asked  me  to  be  his  blushing  bride,"  said 
the  unfeeling  Miss  Gaymer,  "and  tried  to  grab 
my  hand.  I  squinted  down  my  nose,  and  looked 
very  prim  and  sweet,  and  thought  we  had  better 
be  getting  back  to  the  ballroom,  and  he  could 
talk  to  Mr.  Marrable  in  the  morning.  If  that's 
your  idea  of  allowing  people  to  make  love,  dear 
friend  — " 

"But  you  —  you  —  promised  to  marry  him!" 
said  poor  Hughie. 

Joan  stared  at  him. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Hughie,"  she  said 
slowly,  "that  he  told  you  that?" 

"Yes  —  with  one  or  two  corroborative  details. 
That  was  why  I  had  to  tell  him  —  everything,  you 
know.  It  was  the  only  way,  I  thought,  to  choke 
him  off." 


376          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

"  O  —  o  —  oh ! "  Miss  Gaymer  wriggled  indig- 
nantly. "The  creature!  And  when  he  heard  I 
had  no  money,  he  cried  off?" 

Hughie  bowed  his  head.  Joan  gave  a  low 
gurgling  laugh. 

"There's  no  getting  over  it,  Hughie !"  she  said. 
"He  scored.  A  nasty  slap  for  little  me!  But  I 
deserved  it,  for  trying  to  trifle  with  his  young 
affections.  Well,  you  have  given  me  one  reason 
for  his  departure.  What  was  the  other?" 

Hughie  eyed  her  in  some  embarrassment. 
Then  he  said,  — 

"He  began  to  talk  about  you,  Joey,  in  a  way 
I  did  n't  like,  so  I  — " 

His  eye  slid  round  towards  the  window,  and 
then  downward  in  the  direction  of  his  right  foot. 
A  smile  crept  over  his  troubled  face,  and  he 
glanced  at  Joan. 

"Oh,  Hughie,  did  you  ?"  she  exclaimed  raptur- 
ously. 

"Yes.   He  landed  in  that  rose-bed.  Look!" 

Joey  shuffled  off  the  table  and  joined  him  by 
the  window.  A  few  feet  below  them,  on  the  rose- 
bed,  lay  the  unmistakable  traces  of  the  impact 
of  a  body  falling  from  rest  with  an  acceleration 
due  to  something  more  than  the  force  of  gravity. 

Joan  cooed  softly,  evidently  well  pleased. 
Hughie  turned  and  regarded  her  with  a  puzzled 
expression.  No  man  ever  yet  fathomed  the  work- 


WASTE   OF  A  STAMP  377 

ings  of  the  feminine  mind,  but  he  never  quite 
gives  up  trying  to  do  so. 

"Are  you  glad  that  he  got  thrown  out?"  he 
asked. 

Joan  pondered. 

"It's  not  exactly  that,"  she  said.  "I'm  not 
glad  he  was  thrown  out :  it  must  have  hurt  him, 
poor  dear!  But  I'm  glad  you  threw  him  out,  if 
you  understand  the  difference." 

Hughie  was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  did,  but  he 
nodded  his  head  in  a  comprehending  manner. 
Then  he  continued :  — 

"Tell  me,  Joey,  if  you  didn't  care  for  him, 
why  did  you  send  him  to  me,  instead  of  giving 
him  the  knock  direct?" 

Joey  surveyed  her  retired  "warder"  with  eyes 
half-closed. 

"  Well,"  she  said  reflectively, "  there  were  heaps 
of  reasons,  but  you  are  a  man  and  would  n't  un- 
derstand any  of  them.  But,  roughly  speaking,  it 
was  because  I  wanted  to  see  how  you  would  han- 
dle him.  I  knew  you  would  n't  let  him  marry  me, 
of  course,  but  I  wanted  to  see  how  you  would 
play  your  cards.  (You  simply  don't  know  how 
fascinating  these  things  are  to  watch.)  Besides,  I 
thought  it  would  be  good  for  him  to  come  face  to 
face  with  —  a  mow,"  she  added,  almost  below 
her  breath. 

"I  only  got  the  best  of  him,"  said  Hughie 


378          THE  UNJUST  STEWARD 

humbly,  "by  laying  all  my  cards  on  the  table. 
There's  not  much  finesse  required  for  a  game 
like  that." 

"Still,  you  won,"  said  Joan. 

Hughie  sighed. 

"  Haliburton  lost,  if  you  like,"  he  said ; "  I  don't 
quite  see  what  /  — " 

"No  —  you  won!"  said  a  very  small  but  very 
insistent  voice  by  his  side. 

Hughie  turned  sharply.  Miss  Gaymer  was 
breathing  expansively  upon  the  glass  of  the  win- 
dow, and  assiduously  scribbling  a  pattern  thereon 
with  her  finger  —  an  infantile  and  unladylike 
habit  of  which  her  nurse  thought  she  had  cured 
her  at  the  age  of  eight.  Also,  her  cheeks  were 
aglow,  and  that  with  a  richness  of  colouring  which 
sufficed  to  convey  some  glimmerings  of  intelli- 
gence even  into  the  brain  of  the  obtuse  young  man 
beside  her.  Hughie  suddenly  felt  something  inside 
his  head  begin  to  buzz.  His  gigantic  right  hand 
(which  still  contained  Jimmy  Marrable's  cheque 
tucked  in  between  two  fingers)  closed  cautiously 
but  comprehensively  upon  Joan's  left,  which 
was  resting  on  the  window-frame,  much  as  a 
youthful  entomologist's  net  descends  upon  an 
unwary  butterfly. 

"  Joey,"  he  said  unsteadily,  —  "  Joey,  what  do 
you  mean  ?" 

Miss  Gaymer  sighed,  in  the  resigned  but  per- 


WASTE    OF  A  STAMP  379 

severing  fashion  of  a  patient  Sunday-school 
teacher.  Then  she  slipped  her  hand  from  under 
Hughie's,  extracting  as  she  did  so  the  folded 
cheque  from  between  his  fingers.  Hughie  watched 
her  dumbly. 

Joan  unfolded  the  cheque,  and  perused  it  in 
a  valedictory  sort  of  manner.  Then  she  kissed  it 
softly.  Then  she  tore  it  up  very  slowly  into  small 
pieces. 

She  sighed  again  pensively,  and  said :  — 

"  There  goes  my  ransom !  It 's  a  wicked  waste 
—  of  a  cheque-stamp !  Now,"  she  added  cheer- 
fully, "I  am  compromised  worse  than  ever. 
Hughie,  dear,  I  really  think,  after  this,  that 
you  '11  have  to  —  Ough !  Hughie !  Hughie!" 

For  blind,  groping  Hughie's  eyes  were  open 
at  last.  With  an  exultant  whole-hearted  roar  he 
initiated  a  sudden  enveloping  movement;  and 
then,  turning  away  from  the  fierce  light  that 
beats  upon  actions  performed  at  a  window, 
strode  majestically  (if  rather  top-heavily)  towards 
a  great  leather  sofa  in  a  secluded  corner  beyond 
the  fireplace.  The  scandalised  Miss  Gaymer, 
owing  to  circumstances  over  which  she  had  no 
control,  accompanied  him. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .    A 


REC'B  10-URL 


gffl«W.UBRARY  FACILITY 

ill      I  III  I    I 
000  037  064   ™ 


